


It Hurts to Become

by YellowDistress



Series: What We Are [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:14:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 111,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowDistress/pseuds/YellowDistress
Summary: Tony’s hands wrung together, under the hot water, and he blinked, head low. Wakanda’s palace was a bustle of voices and truth be told, he wasn’t happy to arrive two hours ago, even after spending two weeks in space because Nebula’s ship had been damaged during the fight on Titan. He imagined he should have been relieved to get to Earth. Should have been more than happy to get off the ship. But he wasn’t quite right, then. He wasn’t right.Not a lot was.He could hear them through the walls, even from the shower. People talking, everyone inside. Trying to figure out what to do while Tony let the hot water burn his skin, scalding, from a shower and washing away his fucking child’s ashes. Like…non-existence and never-existence were being washed down the drain and Tony imagined his son being washed away like that.





	1. The Velveteen Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooo, I didn't expect to start this part so soon. But! I just had to, and I finished plotting the outline and I just felt like it needed to be done. I know I said at the end of the last part that I was going to wait for the last movie to come out before I updated again, but so many people requested a 'fix-it' fic for part 4, so I thought: why not write my own conclusion, right? What's the harm? So here we are! You'll notice I didn't include Captain Marvel and that's just because without her movie out I was too scared of screwing up her character completely so I chickened out of adding her. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy chapter one. Let me know what you think! I really think I'm addicted to writing.

If the ripping of Peter’s entire existence from the crust of an alien planet had a feeling, he felt it.

 

He felt _all_ of it.

 

But, even so, with all that feeling, there was nothing that could be said about it because there was no comprehendible word for it. Peter didn’t feel sadness or fear, or anything of the kind, the felt _pain_. The same splintering of his bones, except in reverse and one doesn’t become whole… _real_ without it hurting. Maybe that was what that children’s book, _‘The Velveteen Rabbit’_ had meant and in that moment, when all thought processes were clouded by uncontrollable shaking, Peter remembered that story. Maybe he remembered Remy, he didn’t know, but Remy was hairless and in a box, loved to pieces somewhere in their penthouse.

 

_“Real isn’t how you are made,” Said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.”_

_“Does it hurt?” Asked the Rabbit._

_“Sometimes,” Said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful._

_“When you are Real, you don’t mind being hurt.”_

Peter must not have been Real, because he minded being hurt very much. It was a soundless scream, wide, maybe like being born, but nothing escaped his lungs besides a world shattering sob. He felt like he was coughing up water, and to his surprise, he did. As if he had been submerged for hours, drowning and drifting around in a children’s story book. His mind wavered. Peter grasped for anything to hold onto, but there was nothing.

 

He suddenly felt very Real. Very solid. More so than he had been when his body had fallen apart in his father’s arms, and that thought only made him cry harder on the floor that he was on. He rolled onto his stomach, gasping and sputtering, digging his fingers into what he found to be a plush carpet. Shock absorbed, right in his chest, and the room was encased in an orange hue, so much like the planet in which he had ceased to exist. So much like a Hell, a place to suffer, but as Peter lifted his head, bangs soaked to his forehead, he found that he wasn’t in Hell at all.

 

He was in…a lounge maybe?

 

And someone was there with him.

 

Peter would have jumped to his feet, would have fought, but his limbs felt like iron and he was shivering, soaked, and cold. The person standing above him was dressed in all black, a dark cloak around his shoulders, something like Doctor Strange would wear. Peter’s lip trembled, and he blinked several times, finding that the orange hue was coming from a relatively giant fire place to his right, the only light source in the room. It was surrounded by intricate wood carvings and it was the kind of room Peter imagined would be in an old gothic home, the kind of home his father hated, unmodern, uncivilized would be a way his dad would describe it.

 

Peter wasn’t afraid, but then he was. Not just because the man standing above him was glaring darkly, but because…because he could still feel the hurt. Deep in his belly, as if he was threatening to float away at any moment. That sort of terror doesn’t just go, Peter decided, even though he so wished for it to do so. It felt like the kind of terror one would never recover from. The kind of pain that was dulled with medicine, and Peter suddenly realized where addiction came from because he couldn’t imagine phantom pains for the rest of his natural life.

 

Dead people shouldn’t hurt though, and Peter didn’t understand.

 

“What. Are. You. Doing?” The man, with some sort of accent, asked, emphasizing each and every syllable. Peter’s shoulders shook, and he remained on his belly, looking up at him, palms flattened and he was tempted to just lie down and never wake up because…because what the hell?

 

Peter wanted to reply _“I’m fucking reforming. Drowning. What does it look like?”_

But Peter rarely said the ‘f’ word and he didn’t think saying it in front of the guy in the scary black clothing was a good idea. Even his hair was charcoal, slicked back, and Peter simply shook his head, tears forming in his eyes as he tried to talk, but nothing would escape him. No words. Instead, the man continued fiercely, “Why are you _here_? Thanos throwing garbage into my grave plot now, eh? What, did he run out of cubicles to stick you in?”

 

Thanos. Disappearing. _Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad…._

_“I don’t wanna go…”_

_Pain. Pain. Pain._

_Splintering._

“Thanos,” Peter croaked, voice almost useless, tiny, like he was twelve again, “Thanos…”

 

If anything, his speaking seemed to annoy the man more and he growled sharply, “Thanos what? Can’t you speak? You’re soaking my floor, boy, I ought to smother you.”

 

Peter didn’t really hear the threat, as it didn’t completely process. He pushed himself to his knees, looking down at his hands and the more he stared, the more his chest heaved. The more it hurt, and his insides ached like stones had been placed into his stomach. Peter wiggled his fingers, his fingers that were there and not turning into ash. He moved his wrists before he wrapped his arms around his middle and curled into himself a bit, another loud sob escaping him.

 

_Ow, ow, ow…_

There was a silence between the two of them, as Peter cried, and maybe the man decided some sort of mercy was due while Peter lost himself completely. His already soaked face was once again coated in relentless tears and Peter cried shamelessly in front of the stranger. He didn’t really know, at some point, why he was crying. He knew he was aching, but that wasn’t enough for the emotional outburst. But his father…his father wasn’t with him…Peter was alone…and Thanos had won.

 

“T-Thanos,” Peter struggled to get the words out, “H-He…he won.”

 

That got the man’s attention. A beat of quiet, shocked quiet and then the air in the room completely changed. The man above him fell to his knees in front of Peter and Peter cried out when both of his arms were seized into a tight and unforgiving grip. Peter reached out, and pushed at the man’s chest, but surprisingly, the guy didn’t budge in the slightest, and Peter wondered if maybe his strength had disappeared with the ash.

 

The stranger gripped his arms so tightly, Peter knew he would certainly bruise as he questioned, “Thanos what?”

 

Peter opened his mouth, but the shock was still great and an expanse, and Peter couldn’t find words to explain because of the sudden violence inflicted upon him. When he took too long to answer, the stranger shook him roughly, and he questioned again, this time louder, “Thanos what!?”

 

“He won!” Peter shouted, just wanting the world to stop shaking, for the man to let go of him, “He won! Everyone started to turn to ash and I-I…I did too and my dad…he…”

 

The man released him and stood back to his feet. Peter was knocked off balance and fell back onto his bottom, eyes wide as he stared up at the man who began to pace around the large room. The fire felt hot, and did things feel hot when one was dead? Peter guessed so. He looked down, his suit shimmering in the flicker, the glow, and Peter felt like fire suddenly, the cold gone. Peter could have burned down the entire room, but he remained silent, frightened.

 

“I cannot believe…” The man’s words died off, then returned, “You foolish humans always let these things get away from you!”

 

His shout surprised Peter slightly and he cringed, ducking his head. Now the stranger looked beside himself, just as much as Peter had been. The boy curled into himself slightly, studying the man as he continued to pace about the room, seemingly in extreme distress, but Peter didn’t know why because he too was obviously dead if they were both together. Peter swallowed past the lump in his throat, sniffling slightly from the tear build up.

 

Peter asked, “B…But…Aren’t you dead too? Aren’t you…human?”

 

A bitter laugh escaped the man as he whirled to look at Peter, snapping, “I am a god, and I suggest you do not compare me to a human again. Yes, I am dead, but I didn’t play a part in Thanos receiving all six stones, he should have never been allowed to get that far. I died for Thor, for the _umpteenth_ time, and this is what I get from the deal? A disintegrated teenager invading my afterlife?”

 

Thor.

 

This guy died for Thor.

 

Then something clicked in Peter’s mind and he didn’t know why he didn’t recognize the man. Maybe because the only photos they had of him had stopped circulating in the news long ago and he appeared older now than he had been last time his had appeared on Earth. Peter felt his chest constrict, tighten, and then explode in sudden terror as he blinked several times, more tears forming behind his brown eyes. He knew the man’s face. He knew why he might have died for Thor, and Peter thought…yes, he was going to die a second time. This time in the afterlife.

 

“You’re Loki.”

 

The man…Loki, narrowed his eyes on Peter before he somewhat scoffed, “So the humans do educate their children, then.”

 

Peter felt some resentment flare. It had been sometime since New York, but Loki had done such horrible things. Even now, knowing that Thanos had been behind the whole thing, Peter still felt upset deep in his gut. But he supposed it shouldn’t be outwardly expressed when Peter still felt like he weighed a million pounds and he wasn’t able to focus properly. He simply sunk further into himself, as if to protect…protect from something.

 

Because Loki had been the villain that had sent his father into the wormhole, but Thanos had been standing in the back the entire time. Standing there and watching and Peter was alone in himself, in his terror. He wanted his father, because he would know what to do if Loki was in the same room with him, but Peter tried to convince himself that maybe Loki hadn’t wanted to do it. If he had died for Thor…after all…maybe he wasn’t evil.

 

“Thanos killed you?” Peter whispered.

 

“Maimed is a better word,” Loki hissed, rolling his eyes slightly as he looked away, hand rising to his throat as if in an unconscious manner. Peter blinked several times, watching the action as Loki cleared his throat and continued, “I was sort of just ‘hero’ support by that point in the battle. Quite frankly, when reevaluating my decisions, the knife was a rather weak choice.”

 

Peter looked around, “Why are we together then? If…if he murdered you and I…I disappeared?”

 

“Good question.” Loki didn’t sound even remotely happy to have Peter there, but Peter could have said the feeling was mutual. Loki was a bad guy…and so…if Peter was with Loki then…

 

Peter felt more tears rise in his throat as he asked, “Did I go to Hell?”

 

Loki’s face was blank as he replied, the sarcasm dripping, “I don’t know, do children typically get sent to Hel?”

 

Peter didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about Hell. Is stomach twisted in knots and he wrapped his arms around his knees, bringing them close to his chest as he looked at the fire. He didn’t know how to reply to that and Loki sighed, letting out a breath maybe he had been holding for some time as he explained, “Thanos murdered me and had me set aside when he retrieved the Soul Stone. Pulled me right out of an empty afterlife, just to save me for later use if need be. I do wonder what reason he would have to set you aside as well.”

 

Peter looked up with wide eyes. He agreed, he wondered the same thing. Peter wouldn’t be much use to Thanos, and the thought was almost frightening. He whispered softly, “He really hates my dad…Maybe he just plans to hurt me later on…for fun or something.”

 

Loki’s eyes narrowed on him when Peter looked up and he questioned, “And your father is…?”

 

“Tony Stark,” The name tasted like grief, mourning, and misery, “Iron Man.”

 

Loki’s face didn’t look surprise. Instead he looked up at the ceiling and whispered softly, “Of course…Of course he would stick you with me.”

 

The man moved away, going to sit on the nearby sofa that was gleaming leather, reflecting from the fireplace. Silence was back, and the crackling from the burning wood was all he could hear. Peter sucked in a deep breath, the urge to continue crying striking him across the face and he just felt incredibly tired. He bit his nails, to distract himself, but it was taking too long for Loki to say anything else and Peter felt like his head might explode if no one spoke.

 

He wanted so badly to not be there.

 

Peter murmured softly, breaking the quiet, “I wanna go home.”

 

“You cannot,” Loki stated bluntly, not taking his eyes off the burning fire, “Not unless Thanos is defeated and with half the universe gone, that is an incredibly slim chance. You are stuck here, unless Thanos ultimately has use for you.”

 

That… _that_ was so terrifying.

 

Peter looked up at the ceiling. There was something cold, something void, like being surrounded by ice and despite the fireplace giving him warmth, there was something outside of them that he could not touch but felt frozen to. Peter worried on his lower lip, continuing to stare up at the ceiling as he said, “This place feels… _wrong_.”

 

“You are sensitive to the souls around us,” Loki explained, “Our pocket is cut off from them, but they are there…floating. Count yourself lucky that you have a physical form. Otherwise, you would be nothing but a mind, drifting through empty space. At least here where Thanos has us we are _something_.”

 

But something meant Real, and Real meant hurt.

 

Loki stood suddenly without warning and walked to the large double doors on the other side of the room, leading out into a hallway. Peter rose to his feet to follow, swaying only slightly like a newborn deer as he rushed after the man who took large strides and Peter had to struggle to catch up. The hallway felt endless, lined with murals and the molding was carved deeply. The wood was nearly black and everything looked so dark with no windows, each room without sunlight. Loki’s cloak trailed the floor and Peter nearly treaded on it as he rushed behind the god.

 

“I-I’m Peter by the way,” Peter said, stuttering nervously, “I don’t think I said t-that. I forgot…’cause I was kinda...well…upset and stuff.”

 

Peter got not verbal response and he continued, “So…we’re in a pocket…in a mansion?”

 

“An illusion,” Loki didn’t look back at him when he said it, “Of my design. Thanos gave me that freedom, at the very least. His cruelty knows no bounds when one stands in his way, but I supposed his prisoners are given comfort.”

 

Peter whispered, “An illusion…so like magic? Like Doctor Strange?”

 

Loki stopped walking suddenly, whirling around to face Peter suddenly and Peter bumped into him. Loki let out an annoyed sound, glaring down at Peter who shrunk slightly as he stood under the man’s gaze. Peter bit his lip, hands folding together as he whispered, “Sorry Mister Loki.”

 

Loki ignored the apology and snapped, “I am nothing like that silly little magician.”

 

Peter nodded his head quickly, in an agreement that he didn’t understand. Just to placate. The boy looked at the floor, mind wandering slightly to Doctor Strange and the others. Where they must be if they were truly floating around in nothingness as Loki had described. Loki turned to walk away, but Peter’s hands shot out and he wrapped both around Loki’s arm, causing the man to tense and rip it away. Peter cringed back, as if expecting to be struck as he simultaneously spoke, “W-Wait! I…Mister Loki is there any way for me to get to the others?”

 

“I told you we’re in a pocket,” Loki sounded incredibly impatient, “Which is, in simple terms, a prison cell. We cannot leave, and those souls cannot come here. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t even be here boy, so shoo and leave me alone.”

 

Peter’s eyes burned, his stomach dropping. Plummeting. He just wanted to see a familiar face, but most of all he wanted his father. He wanted to know if he was alright and he wanted to tell him that he too was okay, even if he was stuck in a cold, dark pocket with Loki. Peter’s hands trembled at the thought of his father…at the thought of his suffering and Peter was so sorry. So sorry is ached inside of him, and Peter was a pest.

 

A thorn in his father’s life.

 

If he had never existed in the first place, it would have never hurt his father. If he had never been born…or found by his dad, his father wouldn’t be suffering in that very moment. Peter felt tears form heavily inside the burn, and one slipped through, staining his cheek. Loki looked awkward suddenly, back straightening and his shoulders going stiff.

 

“Stop crying,” Loki ordered sharply, “Go back to the sitting room. I will not have you following me around like a lost creature. Wipe your eyes.”

 

Peter did so quickly, using the heel of his hand as he sniffled, trying to calm his upset as Loki continued, “ _Behave_. If we are to tolerate each other, I cannot have a child crying every five minutes.”

 

With that Loki whirled around and walked away…and Peter was left in the middle of the hall.

 

_“Does it happen all at once?” The Rabbit asked, “Like being wound up, or bit by bit?”_

 

_“It doesn’t happen all at once,” Said the Skin Horse._

_“You become.”_

_…_

Recapitulation.

 

Tony’s hands wrung together, under the hot water, and he blinked, head low. Wakanda’s palace was a bustle of voices and truth be told, he wasn’t happy to arrive two hours ago, even after spending two weeks in space because Nebula’s ship had been damaged during the fight on Titan. He imagined he should have been relieved to get to Earth. Should have been more than happy to get off the ship. But he wasn’t quite right, then. He wasn’t _right_.

 

Not a lot was.

 

He could hear them through the walls, even from the shower. People talking, everyone inside. Trying to figure out what to do while Tony let the hot water burn his skin, scalding, from a shower and washing away his fucking child’s ashes. Like…non-existence and never-existence were being washed down the drain and Tony imagined his son being washed away like that. It was a baptism.

 

Tony turned the shower off.

 

He moved slowly, the wound in his abdomen tender. The moment he had gotten off the ship two hours ago, the palace doctors had done their best to help him. Tony had gotten a brief look at who was left, and things weren’t looking good, but he had seen Rhodey and at least…well at least Rhodey was alive. Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and Thor had all survived the Snap as well, along with a talking raccoon that had apparently known ‘Star Lord’ and the others.

 

T’Challa was gone. That had been made clear in the first few minutes. People were panicked but Tony couldn’t _feel_. Even as he dried and got dressed and the pain continued to flare, even after he downed a handful of pills, but it was like a dull thing. Like his senses had been drawn back into nothing but _him, him, him_ , into _Peter_.

 

Peter was dead.

 

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when he found Rhodey standing outside the bathroom door, waiting for him. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, face worried and tired. Tony looked at him, slipping a jacket on that had been gifted to him by one of the palace employees. Rhodey’s eyes held care, comfort, and he looked like he wanted to talk, but Tony cut him off.

 

“I need to call Pepper.”

 

Rhodey nodded, dug in his pocket and pulled out a cellphone. Tony wondered briefly if Wakanda had cell service, but apparently, they did because Tony dialed and it rung. He supposed, if Pepper didn’t pick up, he would make that two-stride leap towards the giant windows across the bedroom and throw himself out. Rhodey wouldn’t be able to stop him and the thought wasn’t anything dramatic, it was just there, and it was a promise. Because if Pepper didn’t answer, what was the point? The pills were working, Tony thought. Definitely working.

 

 _“Rhodey?”_ The voice of an angel answered. Like truly, if there was a god, his best angel would sound like Pepper did when that phone picked up. Tony didn’t smile or laugh or feel joy, he didn’t even feel happy. He actually felt a sort of disappointment because the window was no longer a viable option. The excuse wouldn’t be enough, because sure Peter was dead, but Pepper was alive.

 

“Tony actually,” Tony said, voice devoid of anything, and Rhodey pretended not to be looking at him, interested in looking out the window, but Tony knew he was on ledge-watch, “My cell didn’t make it back.”

 

_Not the only thing._

_“Oh God, Tony!”_ Pepper exclaimed, _“R-Rhodey said…God, I called and called and Rhodey said they weren’t sure where you were and-and it’s been what?! Two weeks!? Are you alright? Is Peter alright?”_

The thing about this and that was that it would always be this and that. Tony was obliviated. He had died on Titan with Peter. Pepper’s voice was teary, and maybe, if Tony hadn’t taken so many pills, he wouldn’t have been so blunt in his response, “Yeah I just got back...I was…pretty far away…Peter is dead, Pepper.”

 

It tasted like acid on his lips, the words. Empty words, with hardly any emotion behind them. But Tony couldn’t _feel_ it. Because it felt like everything all at once. Like the universe exploding into stars, so if he stepped too close to that emotion, it beat him back into the numbness. Made him stay there, like a dog outside in the rain. Too afraid to get close again. Silence met him from the other end of the line, and Tony, the Tony that was deep within, screamed for him to soften. To comfort the blow. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything and Rhodey whirled around to look at him, a look of horror on his face.

 

_“W-What?”_

“He’s dead,” Tony ground out, “Dead, Pepper. Fucking dead…he turned to ash.”

 

Maybe it was because he had spent two weeks crying on that ship with a robot. Maybe. It had morphed into a complex rage and he didn’t know why it was coming out when he was talking to Pepper, because Pepper loved Peter too but Tony was alone in his suffering. He had just washed his son down the shower drain, had spent two weeks with his child’s ashes on his hands, and here he was…abusing Pepper with the information, not bothering to soften the blow because no one had softened it for him.

 

He had taken so many pain pills.

 

Rhodey rushed over, just as Pepper’s voice erupted on the phone and he snatched it from Tony’s hand. Tony stepped back, allowing it as Rhodey stuck the phone to his ear and spoke hurriedly, “Pepper, Pepper, calm down, listen…Tony is…I know, I know, he’s just…I know Pepper.”

 

Tony left the room, practically stumbling into the hallway. The giant windows were darkening, the sun was setting, and Tony slammed into someone’s chest. When he looked up, unfortunately, it was Steve standing there, looking down at him with a concerned expression. Tony stepped back, sniffing indignantly.

 

“Tony?” Steve questioned, “Are you alright?”

 

Tony laughed bitterly, fumbling around the super soldier to move further down the hallway, “I mean, I don’t know.”

 

Steve stepped forward and Rhodey exited the room at that moment, his face angry. He held up the phone and snapped, “Tony, do you know how upset you just made her?”

 

The numbness broke for a second. Tony felt it overflow, kind of like lake water that was all brown and stagnant. His face contorted into that of pain, washing emptiness over the railing and Tony nearly tripped over his own feet, and both of the other men lurched forward to grab him, but Tony moved away again, escaping them. His brows pulled together, looking down, and Tony shook his head. He hadn’t meant to hurt Pepper.

 

The room was spinning.

 

“How much pain meds did you take?” Rhodey questioned.

 

“Enough,” Tony muttered, turning his attention Cap, before explaining, voice only trembling in the slightest but the rest monotone, “To answer your question: I don’t think so. My kid kind of turned to ash two weeks ago. I just washed him off in the shower, and you know, well, actually you probably don’t know, but it kind of sucked. It’s really fucked up, isn’t it?”

 

Rhodey and Steve looked relatively shocked as Tony let out another unsettling laugh, “And now I’m hopped up on pills ‘cause that happens! So if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to be an asshole somewhere since I’ve already gotten my kid murdered and emotionally damaged my fiancée.”

 

“Tony,” Steve tried, reaching out and grabbing him by the crook of his elbow. Tony yanked, whirling around and swinging his fist, but Steve backed up before it could make contact with his stupid-perfect teeth. Rhodey flew forward, grabbing Tony’s wrist and pushing him back but Tony was quick to wrench himself from his friend’s grip, throwing himself backward and down the hallway. He ignored Rhodey, who called repeatedly for him to come back because well, things were kind of rough. They were _rough_.

 

Wakanda’s palace would have been something amazing if they weren’t mourning their dead king and chaos wasn’t erupting. The technology was absolutely stunning and Tony wished the world wasn’t spinning so much or else he might have stopped to look. But the thought of how much Peter would have loved it played in too deep and he just didn’t want to stop. He wandered quite endlessly, through room after room and Tony didn’t know where he was going or where to stop. There was nowhere _to_ stop. People were sobbing around every corner, wherever he turned.

 

Crying and crying and crying and Peter had cried too.

 

Peter had _hurt_.

 

Tony found his place to stop. It was in the form of a drunk raccoon, in an empty room with a bar and bottles everywhere. Like something out of a movie, and the raccoon himself smelled like alcohol and it burned Tony’s nose. The room had been enveloped in the night sky, and Tony had found the raccoon irritating when he had first met him upon his arrival but suddenly he felt like the drunk creature was the only thing in the universe that understood him.

 

“Wow. You look messed up,” The raccoon greeted, voice slurring as he let the empty bottle drop to the floor and it cracked slightly upon impact. Tony raised an eyebrow, moving over to where the raccoon was leaning against the bar behind him and he sat down slowly, leaning back against the bar as well.

 

Tony picked up one of the bottles and studied it. Rum would burn, but it would comfort, and it would be warm. Tony raised an eyebrow towards the creature and replied, “You’re funny…with a hypocrite problem.”

 

“Screw you, I ain’t a hypocrite,” He slurred.

 

Tony opened the bottle and took a swig. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually drank. It sometimes happened when Peter’s patrols stressed him, but not nearly as much as he was about to drink in that moment. He planned to disappear. Maybe turn into ash himself or float away into the cosmos. Become nothing but empty energy.

 

“Heard your kid is dead,” The raccoon said, and Tony wasn’t even angry because his stomach felt like a fireplace, “Mine is too.”

 

Tony wondered how _that_ worked. He actually wondered a lot about the talking raccoon. Tony shook his head and replied, “How’s that work?”

 

“He was kind of a tree. But with arms and stuff.”

 

The world was blurring at the edges. Tony didn’t know what was hurting so much. He didn’t know much of anything as he leaned heavily into the bar behind him, how he had gone from the shower, to breaking Pepper, to almost punching Steve, and then getting drunk with a talking raccoon. It was kind of like…a conundrum. Peter had always talked about conundrums. He found his life to be one, and suddenly Tony understood.

 

“Can raccoons drink alcohol? You might die.”

 

“What’s a raccoon?”

 

Tony shrugged. Good question. What were any of them? Flesh, sort of, some of them were ash and Tony couldn’t really think straight anymore. The pain medicine and alcohol were a dangerous mixture, but he imagined he’d be fine. Even if he wanted to be dead, he didn’t want so badly to be _that_ kind of dead.

 

The raccoon was talking, and Tony could only catch so much. The animal spoke thickly, “…they’re all gone, and sure they were irritating as hell, but I mean, this isn’t great. It’s all _bullshit_. And here you are, and people were all excited for you to be back, like you could help save everyone, but you’re just as messed up as I am.”

 

Tony glared slightly, but his head felt too heavy to lift it.

 

“What would you like me to do?” Tony questioned, “I’m not everyone’s savior.”

 

_I couldn’t even save my kid._

The raccoon nodded…

 

“Well,” The raccoon’s face was all blurry, “If you could, at least…save my crew. Be useful, instead of gettin’ all drunk with me. Because in the scheme of things…this entire thing is pointless. You and me…feelin’ all sorry for ourselves.”

 

Tony looked away, took a swig of the rum.

 

“What’s pointless…is this,” Tony muttered, “And you’re being a hypocrite again.”

 

The raccoon said nothing. There was sort of the…lack of a wall. Tony had only just met this animal, but suddenly it felt like the creature was the only thing that understood, and it wasn’t even a human. Its kid was a…tree? Tony felt empty. And so, so, so, left behind. Like everyone was coping so much better. Rhodey and Steve were standing. The remaining Avengers were standing, elsewhere in the palace. And while the palace was mourning their king and half of their population…they were still _alive_. Functioning, and why did Tony feel so alone?

 

“I’m Rocket, by the way.”

 

Tony looked over at him, “Tony.”

 

“I know who you are, Stark,” Rocket the Raccoon huffed, “You’re the one that’s supposed to save everyone. High expectations if you ask me.”

 

…

 

Loki could compare the boy’s presence to a dark storm.

 

It was irritating, the way it was affecting the air around them. How the boy’s emotions were digging into the illusion Loki had worked so hard to build. He didn’t understand why Thanos had to leave the boy there, with him. Why Loki was being forced to suffer even more with the presence of a teary child.

 

Loki stood outside the sitting room, behind the wall, listening to the boy’s quiet sobbing. He had been waiting for nearly ten minutes to enter, for the boy’s cries to subside, but he had yet to get a handle on himself and Loki was growing extremely impatient with him. He just wanted to put the boy away, and lock him up so he wouldn’t have to come across such emotion. Death had a painful tinge to it, a tinge that Loki had adjusted to long ago…But the boy had no grasp of it and wasn’t coping well in the slightest.

 

Loki needed him to stop. The illusion was suffering too.

 

He stepped around the corner finally, growing tired of waiting. The boy was on the couch, face buried in his arms and Loki cleared his throat to gain the boy’s attention. Peter’s head snapped up in surprise and Loki ordered, “Come with me.”

 

The boy jumped up instantly, rubbing his hands over his face. It was disgusting really, the boy’s cheeks covered in the sticky substance as he practically ran to Loki. He stood and waited for Peter, before turning and making his way down the hallway. He could hear the boy struggling to keep up with him, sniffling from time to time and Loki was tempted to tell him to blow his damned nose, but that would only impede his mission to put the boy away.

 

They rounded two corners, until stopping in front of one of the many doors and once again, the boy bumped into him as a result of the sudden stop. Loki ignored him though, reaching out and opening the door before stepping aside and gesturing for Peter to enter. The boy did so hesitantly, looking at Loki with his impossibly wide eyes and Loki felt like he was looking at some creature that was lost and violently afraid.

 

Loki looked at the wall.

 

“You’ll stay here,” Loki stated bluntly, “Do not wander, I find your presence frustrating enough, I don’t need you lingering around.”

 

Loki left out that Peter’s emotions were hurting the pocket. Literally, causing it _despair_ and it was making him nauseous. Peter looked at him, suddenly appearing very terrified with his blotchy face and Loki rolled his eyes, “Calm down. I’m not locking you up, just stay out of the way.”

 

To his surprise…the boy didn’t argue. He simply nodded his head and whispered softly, “Yes sir.”

 

Well…that was much easier than Loki had initially assumed.

 

The god turned, beginning to make his exit when the boy’s small voice called after him, “Mister Loki?”

 

Loki paused, turning his head only slightly. Peter moved towards him a little, before seeming to realize he wasn’t supposed to follow. It was like a duckling and had the boy not been so annoying by invading his afterlife, Loki might have found it to be more amusing. But in that moment, the child was simply a pain. A reminder of a hand around his throat and watching Thor’s despair. A reminder of emotion, emotions that Loki had managed to block out since being dead once more.

 

“What?” He snapped.

 

The child flinched, just barely before saying, “I’m sorry…for being here.”

 

So odd.

 

Loki suddenly found himself to be a little sorry too, but not in the same way.


	2. Where the Wild Things Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter reached his hand in, up to his wrist and whispered, “What the hell?”
> 
> Maybe it wasn’t a mirror at all…
> 
> Then, without warning, it solidified, suctioned, and yanked Peter through, ripping him into the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two my awesome, awesome readers! I wanted to get this out for you guys now, because next week is finals week and I didn't want to leave you all with just one chapter. So here we go!! I love you all ahhhhh! ❤

Peter stayed in that room so long he forgot that beige was a color and not an existence.

 

The walls were that terrible shade, and Peter had been staring at it for hours. Sleeping evaded him, though Peter didn’t know if he even slept anymore or if it was an option. It didn’t seem to be one, but the room had a bed and if Loki had created beds in his illusion, wouldn’t sleep be a relatively comprehendible concept? Peter couldn’t imagine ever sleeping again, with the hurt in his chest and the missing of his father.

 

He had never missed someone so much. He had been relatively young when his mother and step father died and he wondered if he had missed them in such a way. He felt very little but that, down to the bone. To his DNA. He had cried himself all out, and now a numbness had settled upon him, but the missing stayed. It stayed so long. Maybe he had been there hours, days, or even weeks, not feeling anything but The Miss. He named it that, because it gave him something palpable to push against. Something tangible.

 

_“This is all yours. You are the owner of this world.”_

Peter’s eyes burned. He longed for being small, for reading those stories with his father. For the comfort of children’s stories when he wasn’t all alone, and he had never realized that fiction could ring so true inside of his chest, like an echo bouncing off his ribs. He had thought he was done crying, but he had been wrong about that. He supposed he had been wrong about a lot of things.

Peter hadn’t been ready though.

 

He hadn’t wanted to go.

 

Peter was nearing another tear flood when he heard it for the first time. It jolted him slightly, sounding through the wood of the illusion fueled mansion. Down the hallway and into Peter’s room, and his eyes were wide with shock, because it had been so silent for so long that he had forgotten what noise even sounded like, besides the low humming of what he pretended were souls surrounding them, freezing him.

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

It was vivid, someone slamming their knuckles against a door or a wall. Peter’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to peer around the door without having to stand from the bed, but he saw nothing. Instead it was emptiness, a dark hall and Peter felt his heart begin to beat a bit faster with a sudden spike of terror crawling through him.

 

_Knock._

Peter jumped to his feet this time, before slowly slinking towards the door and grabbing the frame. He leaned out, staring, and the hallway was endless again, intimidating and Peter had been told to stay in the room after all. Not leave and annoy Mister Loki and Peter wasn’t very interested in learning how thin his patience could be stretched.

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

Okay…Peter was definitely going to have to follow it. At this point it was mandatory and despite being afraid of what Mister Loki was bound to do to him, Peter felt like it couldn’t be normal for their illusion to have something knocking. There were no windows, and Peter was almost certain a prison cell didn’t just have a front door, so the idea of someone knocking was somewhat frightening and made his back begin to sweat, even though he felt unbearably cold all of a sudden.

 

Peter stepped into the hall, going right towards the knocking. It continued to echo on down the corridor and the closer Peter got to the source, the faster and more prominent it was. Over and over again, like a phantom, and phantoms had made themselves clear through the aches in his body and through the tears left on his cheeks. So Peter followed because if the knock was a phantom like him, what was the worst that could happen?

 

He inched, his feet making the softest sounds on the floor. He wanted so badly to change out of his Spider-Man suit, but he wasn’t sure if something bad was going to happen. He was dressed in two layers and Karen hadn’t followed him to the Soul World. He was tempted, if he could find Mister Loki, to maybe ask for some clothes. Something comfortable if possible. He had been wondering if all the ‘dreams’ were real or not. If he was really a person.

 

Even before he made it to the room where the knocking was, Peter could see the orange glowing again and he realized he was moving towards the sitting room where he had become whole. Where he had been made Real once more. Peter approached and just as he rounded the corner into the sitting room, the knocking stopped, and Peter was greeted by a sleeping form on the sofa, and no source of the knocking. The phantom disappearing and leaving him with a slumbering Loki.

 

Mister Loki kind of looked like a vampire in his coffin, dressed in all black and sleeping, still as a board. Peter’s heart raced in his chest as he stood there, looking around for something that could explain what had been knocking, until it returned, directly from the sofa where Mister Loki was and Peter wondered how Mister Loki was sleeping through it, the crackling of the fireplace framing the sound loudly.

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock. Knock._

Peter walked closer to Loki, and before he knew it, he was standing over the sleeping god, eyes round and terrified. It sounded like the knocking was coming from Loki himself, from his skull, and Peter leaned down slowly, turning his head so that his ear was facing the man. Like someone was inside Loki’s cranium, beating on the walls and Peter turned his head sharply, before he reached out without really thinking, placing a hand on the god’s shoulder.

 

Then Peter wasn’t Real. He was a dream.

 

A dream, a void, surrounded by corpses lying around him, like they had never been alive, staring up at a sky that wasn’t there. Surrounded by darkness, and Peter could see Thanos there, Thanos who had killed half the universe, and Loki, the god, with a hand around his throat. He was turning colors. Turning and turning and turning, strangled like that night Peter had come in contact with that drug dealer. Like falling into a swimming pool at four-years-old.

 

_“You will never…be…a god…”_

But there was this…snap. Death had a stare, and suddenly Loki looked like everyone else surrounding Peter, so desperate for a sky to look at, but ultimately disappointed and fading out of existence. Peter’s heart exploded, as a form crawled towards Loki, a form Peter recognized as Thor and it had been so long since he had seen him and there he was, hair cut short and eye covered with a patch. Crying, distraught.

 

Maybe Peter and his father hadn’t been the only tragedy that Thanos had set into motion.

 

Peter felt tears form in his eyes, and he bit down on his lip. He wanted to move towards them, but his body didn’t budge and they erupted into a fireball. Like they had never been there in the first place. Peter was Real again, no longer a dream and he threw himself back from the couch, the sight of dead bodies leaving him, the smell of burned hair lingering.

 

Loki shot up as well and Peter let out a scream, when he was suddenly grabbed by the god by his wrists. Loki had stood, eyes aware and flaming with rage as if he hadn’t just been asleep. As if he had been awake and Peter let out a sob, though he didn’t really know why he was crying. He just felt so sorry, so suddenly, and he didn’t know if he was sorry for Loki for being strangled to death or sorry for Thor for losing his brother.

 

“What do you think you’re _doing_?” Mister Loki growled.

 

“I’m sorry!” Peter exclaimed without thinking, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened in the first place, and maybe he had lost his mind for a moment. Loki’s hold was too tight though and Peter tugged at his wrists, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

 

“What were you doing!?” Loki shook him.

 

“There was a knocking!” Peter replied, panicked, not understanding why Loki was so angry with him when Peter hadn’t meant to do it, and he wasn’t even sure what he had done exactly. All he had done was touch him, but it felt like he had invaded a part of Loki that wasn’t meant to be messed with. His lower lip trembled, and he shook his head back and forth, “K-Knocking…inside your _head_.”

 

Loki released him so forcefully, Peter stumbled back a bit. He pulled his arms close to himself in some sort of defense measure, chewing his lip as he looked up at the god. Loki looked disheveled and ran a hand through his long hair to get some control over the locks. Peter blinked, over and over again to stop the wetness in his eyes because Loki had told him not to do that anymore.

 

“I thought I told you to stay in your room.”

 

The god was bossy and it somewhat frustrated Peter. There was fierceness in his face, as if he was used to being obeyed and unquestioned, but there was something there too, behind his eyes. Behind everything that Peter couldn’t quite place. This illusion was his, but Peter was there too and he supposed they were meant to share, but it had become Mister Loki’s realm and that in itself felt…empty. Alone.

 

_“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”_

Peter felt cinderblocks.

 

Loki’s gaze went away from him, to the fire. Like something far away and Loki didn’t look at him when he questioned, “There was knocking?”

 

Peter nodded his head vehemently, trying to get the god to understand and hoping that it would make the forgiveness come faster. He folded his hands together and explained, “I-I could hear it all the way from my room. That’s why I came out, a-and then you were sleeping, and it was _inside_ you.”

 

Loki looked at him, as if he was crazy. Peter felt a sudden discomfort, like embarrassment and shame. He had heard something, he really had, but Loki looked disbelieving on whether or not it was true. Peter held his hands together tighter to ground himself, digging his fingernails in and he wondered if he could bleed inside an illusion. He looked down as Loki huffed something under his breath, “…mortals…”

 

Peter looked up, and Loki began to walk towards the exit. Peter called, “Are you alright? That looked…like a really bad dream, Mister Loki.”

 

He was somewhat surprised when Mister Loki whirled on him, remaining on the opposite side of the room. The god ordered, “Don’t pry. You should not have been here in the first place, boy, mind yourself.”

 

And then there was Peter.

 

His thoughts lingered a bit on what he had done wrong and why nothing he said was ever right to Mister Loki. If they were going to stay together, he at least wanted the two of them to be friends. He was Peter’s only source of companionship and Peter dreaded the rest of their stay if it was going to remain anything like this. He wished for his father to find him, there in that place and bring him home and there was even the selfish part of him that desired for his father to be stuck in the Soul Stone as well.

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Peter’s back and shoulders went taut and he rushed towards the hallway, leaning out once more. The knocking continued, and Peter ran towards the sound, half expecting to find Loki somewhere and to be able to say ‘I told you so’ about the knocking coming from the god’s skull. But as Peter ran down the hall, the knocking seemed to crawl further and further away until he reached the very end of what he believed to be endless.

 

The hall ended with a giant, floor to ceiling mirror and Peter stopped, studying his reflection. He tilted his head slightly, curiously, stepping forward towards it, the knocking wavering in and out as if muffled by water. Peter’s mouth opened, but no words escaped as he reached out slowly to the smooth surface, crowned with a silver frame. Held tall, much taller than Peter.

 

Peter’s fingertips touched the surface, and instead of something cold and solid, he was met with something warm and liquid.

 

Ripples formed.

 

A stone in water.

 

Peter reached his hand in, up to his wrist and whispered, “What the hell?”

 

Maybe it wasn’t a mirror at all…

 

Then, without warning, it solidified, suctioned, and yanked Peter through, ripping him into the mirror.

 

_“Let the wild rumpus start.”_

_…_

Tony was most definitely, positively, one-hundred and ten percent messed up.

 

One didn’t wake after the night he had, lying on the floor of an empty room and just scrape themselves up, ready for recovery. They wallowed, and Tony rolled over onto his back and _that_ he did. He wallowed in self-pity, in the remnants of pain pills and alcohol, head pounding against his skull and he could honestly say he couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up on the floor with such a terrible hang over. Sun was forcing its way in, and the bottles were empty. The raccoon was gone and Tony was left to rot in his misery, wondering if what he remembered was real or not.

 

Mourning was odd. It was a lot like college.

 

Tony groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position, staring at the wall opposite of him for just a few seconds before he felt the urge to vomit. He didn’t, thankfully, but he wanted so badly to do so. He really thought he was going to after a few seconds, alone in that room, but someone interrupted the whole process by clearing their throat and saying, “I can honestly say I didn’t believe them when they said you fell off the deep end.”

 

Tony’s head lulled over, almost limply and there on one of the sofas in the room was Clint Barton. Tony’s eyebrows tugged downward, and he shook his head as if disappointed to see the archer. Maybe he was, but all he could think about was the evil taste in his mouth at the back of his throat threatening to produce bile and pollute the entire room.

 

“You travel fast,” Tony grunted.

 

“Actually I’ve been here a week,” Clint replied, “Flew in, about six days after the Snap. Missed the whole fight, but I figured with half the government gone I could violate my house arrest to come give a hand.”

 

Tony scoffed almost bitterly, “Right, because you’re so helpful.”

 

Clint’s face of course, didn’t look hurt and there was no desired effect to show for Tony’s words. Instead there was just a shrug from the other man and Tony was tempted to throw one of the empty glass bottles at him because Tony really didn’t need Barton there while he was wallowing. Tony growled, “So they sent you of all people to give me a pep talk?”

 

“More specifically, Steve sent me,” Clint stood from the couch and began to make his way over. He kept some distance, as if he knew Tony was very close to causing bodily harm. “You know him, he’s all about talking out feelings and stuff and he thinks you’re edging closer to the ledge, so here I am…On ledge-watch.”

 

Tony shook his head, “I am so relieved because honestly, the first thing I thought when I regained consciousness was ‘I could really use Barton’s company right now’.”

 

Clint said nothing, and Tony waved a hand lazily, “On with it. Give me the ‘get up and go’ conversation before I puke everywhere, and you’re forced to leave the room.”

 

Silence followed, and Clint kneeled down slowly so that he was on one knee, still keeping a few feet between himself and the other man. He tilted his head to the side, as if he wanted to say something, but it disappeared. However, it returned again after the slight hesitation as he spoke, “Well, I think you know what I’m gonna say. We need some Stark Genius to help us out there, but if anyone ever asks, I never said ‘Stark Genius’.”

 

“Stark Genius,” Tony said the words as if they were vile, “Stark Genius…you mean the same Stark Genius that couldn’t stop this from happening? That couldn’t stop half the universe from being turned to ash or even comfort my fucking kid while he did the same thing? Yeah, that seems pretty useful, this ‘big brain’ of mine. It really came in handy against Thanos.”

 

Clint shook his head, “Everyone did their best, Tony – “

 

“No they didn’t!” Tony sat up straight suddenly, shouting, but Clint’s face didn’t react, “No one did their best! You weren’t even here, Barton, and if everyone had performed to the best of their goddamn ability, none of this would have happened!”

 

Tony slammed his hand back into the bar behind him, the wood cracking under his fist as he went on, “Don’t talk to me about best when you didn’t even lift a fucking finger!”

 

“ _Enough_ ,” Clint ordered, head lifting suddenly. His face was calm, but his voice held an anger Tony had only heard a few times before, “You want me to feel bad for you? Yeah, I feel bad for you, I really do, man. I _know_ how you feel.”

 

Sometimes Tony forgot he wasn’t the only horror story walking around.

 

Something in the pit of his stomach sank, and he didn’t need Clint to say it for him to understand. Tony was a narcissist, but he knew wrong, and this was wrong. Clint’s jaw set, and he took several deep breaths as he placed a hand on his knee and looked away. Maybe he wanted to hurt Tony then, and Tony wouldn’t have blamed him. Clint continued quietly, “My two oldest ones. Gone. In a split second, without warning. Laura is…not doing great, and to be completely honest, I’m not either. So, I came here, so we could fight. So, we could find a way to get those people back, to get our _children_ back.”

 

Tony wanted to reply, he really did.

 

He just couldn’t.

 

“So,” Clint stood to his feet and continued, “Put yourself together. With tape or staples or screws, whatever you have to use and get your ass in gear, because this problem isn’t going to fix itself and it certainly isn’t going to fix itself with you here. I get it. I really, really get it, but…This is what we gotta do. This is what we gotta fight for.”

 

Clint’s boots echoed out of the room and Tony looked at the wall once more.

 

Tony didn’t remove himself from the floor and instead he sat there. He imagined if Peter saw him, what he would think, because Peter had always been so perceptive, so hurt whenever Tony hurt, and he supposed Peter was the first and only person in the wide world who had seen through him so simply. With such ease. When Tony had been dying, and Peter had been so small then, but had known that something was wrong. That Tony was sick.

 

Peter saw him, through a façade so few people bothered to peer past.

 

Even when he was that four-year-old child that Tony had brought home with him. When he was so tiny Tony could lift him with ease, Peter could see him.

 

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Tony shook his head, “For what?”_

_Peter blinked, “I fell and you cried.”_

Tony’s left hand tightened, and he shut his eyes, slamming his head back against the bar where he had punched his fist through. He breathed deeply so many times, but it didn’t help. It didn’t help the hurt and the pain and Peter wasn’t with him. He wasn’t safe with him and Tony hadn’t even been able to protect him there at the end, because he had been stabbed. Because he had been bleeding and his own child had to stand between him and Thanos. Tony was the one that was supposed to protect his son, but instead a sixteen-year-old had to offer his life.

 

Also, Tony hated himself.

 

_“You’re sad,” Peter’s voice filtered in suddenly._

_Tony looked down beside him. Peter was no longer bouncing in his seat, but was now frowning and had his brows tugged together curiously._

_The man shook his head, “I’m not.”_

_Peter poked out his lip disbelieving, “Yeah-huh.”_

“Yeah kid,” Tony croaked into the empty room that smelled of liquor, “Yeah, I’m sad.”

 

…

 

Peter woke underwater.

 

He could breathe.

 

It felt as thin as air, when he gulped in, but he was floating. His hair wiggled above his head, eyes squinted under the surface as a light came in from above, but he couldn’t see a sun. He was submerged, floating, hands out in front of him. Peter was sinking, lower and lower, and he drew air in again, just to make sure he could actually breathe, and he could. He could breathe, under there.

 

It smelled of ice.

 

Peter wasn’t so cold, but he knew he should be. It was a chill that didn’t hurt, and he sunk, kept going down, and Peter thought maybe he would never stop. Maybe the mirror had brought him somewhere he would never return from, but then suddenly, out of nowhere the mirror reappeared there in the water and he saw himself…but then he saw nothing…then he saw a room and Peter was looking in, looking _through_ and there was his father, leaning against some sort of wooden bar, glass bottles surrounding him on the floor. They were turned over, and his father looked poorly, barely able to keep his head up as someone walked into view.

 

Clint Barton.

 

Peter opened his mouth and the intention was to scream. It was to scream his throat raw and bloody at his father who didn’t seem to notice his presence there, and there was sound coming through the water that smelled of ice, echoing across the expanse of dark ocean. Maybe it was ocean, and Peter was just under the sea, a dead soul.

 

_“Stark Genius…you mean the same Stark Genius that couldn’t stop this from happening? That couldn’t stop half the universe from being turned to ash or even comfort my fucking kid while he did the same thing? Yeah, that seems pretty useful, this ‘big brain’ of mine. It really came in handy against Thanos.”_

Peter cringed at how awful his father sounded, and he had the sudden urge to cry again, but maybe Loki was already getting to him because he was afraid to do so. He bit down on his lower lip, and watched as Clint shook his head back and forth.

 

_“Everyone did their best, Tony – “_

_“No they didn’t! No one did their best! You weren’t even here, Barton, and if everyone had performed to the best of their goddamn ability, none of this would have happened!”_

The words cut deep. No one had done their best…but Peter had done his very best out there on Titan. He had tried his hardest to get the gauntlet off of Thanos’ hand and he had been so close to succeeding too. He knew the words weren’t meant for him, but they cut a bit deeper than Peter anticipated and he sucked in a startled breath, like he had been punched in the chest. His heart cracked slightly, and he wanted to tell his father is was okay. That they had really done their best and not to get angry at Clint. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t _reach_ …

 

_“Don’t talk to me about best when you didn’t even lift a fucking finger!”_

 

The thing about words were they didn’t leave physical blows, but they certainly caused pain. But then Clint told Peter’s father about his own children that had turned to ash and he left Peter’s dad alone in that room and Peter’s life felt like the worst horror movie imaginable, watching his father sit in that silence, surrounded by his former habits. Peter missed him more than words would ever allow and his heart kept going further and further to the point where he was in actual, physical agony.

 

Peter reached out slowly, to touch the mirror. To reach his father, the water sending bubbles up to a surface that Peter didn’t believe existed. But when his fingers touched the cool surface, the glass cracked, splintering where his finger made contact. Peter flinched back out of instinct, before he reached out once more, and tapped again, the glass breaking further. Peter’s eyebrows tugged together, and he tilted his head, whispering into the water and voice coming out like a whisper.

 

“You’re not here.”

 

Then something was grabbing him by the back of his suit and yanking him to the surface.

 

Peter emerged, gasping and sputtering as he fell out of the mirror he had stepped inside, or dragged out was a better word. Both he and someone else plummeted into hard wood floor and Peter coughed, water exiting his lungs much like the moment when he had reformed in the sitting room of Loki’s illusion. Of their pocket prison. Peter’s hair was in his eyes and he quickly pushed it out of the way, looking up to see Loki there too, also soaked to the bone. Like they had been drowning, and had he? Peter thought he could breathe under the water.

 

It hadn’t hurt. Maybe he wasn’t Real.

 

That wasn’t Real.

 

But it was, he knew. He could feel his father’s despair, drifting through that mirror like it had been inflicted upon him personally. Peter was shivering, suddenly very cold in his suit even if it was double layers. Loki looked at him, he too having to push his charcoal hair out of his eyes as he looked at Peter wildly, like he had just committed a detrimental sin and Peter wondered if maybe he had done something terrible by stepping into the mirror.

 

Peter had barely caught his breath when he gasped, “Was that…an…illusion?”

 

“No,” Oh, Mister Loki was angry. That much was clear, but Peter was too busy trying to get the water out of his lungs to really flinch too much. So instead he watched with wide eyes as Loki pushed himself to his knees and continued harshly, “That was _your_ attachment to the physical world infecting _my_ illusion!”

 

Peter shook his head and Mister Loki went on, “You are feeding my illusion and you will stop this instant!”

 

“I don’t know how!” Peter replied, despite himself, frustration coming over the edge. He really didn’t know how. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong and why his attachments would be interfering with Loki’s world. He didn’t even understand why he was in Loki’s world in the first place considering neither of them even knew one another beforehand. Darkness formed around Peter’s heart, like a hot anger as he continued, “Why is my grief the bad one, huh? You’d think you’d at least miss your brother like I miss my dad!”

 

Loki looked appalled. Maybe even a bit startled by the words as he pushed himself to his feet and pointed a sharp finger in Peter’s face, “You are an insolent boy who shouldn’t even be here in the first place!”

 

“Then why am I here?” Peter ground out, voice shaking, “Where are the others? Why couldn’t I be with them?”

 

“I do not know,” Loki replied, lowering his finger, not seeming the slightest bit hurt by Peter’s words and there was a bit of dissatisfaction in that as the god went on, “Maybe you’re here to curse me.  A punishment. But I do not see why you would be punished by the universe, you are a glass child.”

 

Peter’s anger turned white. He tightened his fists, mouth setting into a line as he tried not to cry with rage, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. Palms that had never quite worked, weren’t quite calloused, protected by his gloves for so long when flipping and jumping through the city. The true testament of a billionaire’s son never having to harm and mar himself to survive. Just getting to exist. To get through.

 

Peter was a glass child, but not on the inside. On the inside he was injured, hurt, and scabbed over after years and years of losing people who loved him. Of being hurt, kidnapped, struggling to prove himself to his father. He might have been glass, but Loki was stone, and was that really so much better, to be so hard and lacking a heart on a sleeve?

 

It might have been safer, but they had both ended up dead, after all.

 

Then Peter noticed it…Loki’s gaze shifting to the wall to their left. Peter looked as well, and sure enough, the dark wallpaper was beginning to peel slightly. Peter’s brows furrowed as he watched Loki pluck one of the pieces off the wall, his face contorting into confusion and then realization all in the same breath. Peter continued to stare up from his place on the floor and he chewed the inside of his cheek to calm his worry.

 

“What happened?” Peter questioned, though he thought he knew the answer.

 

“I told you,” Mister Loki held the peeling between his fingers, “You’re invading the illusion with your attachments…your grief.”

 

Peter’s round eyes widened, “I’m hurting the house?”

 

“In a sense,” Loki huffed, dropping the wallpaper and it fluttered to the floor, a lot like a leaf and Peter realized he had yet to see any plants, “You’re interfering. The pain in your soul is overpowering my work. You need to get a hold of yourself before you permanently damage our surroundings.”

 

Peter shook his head back and forth, sounding almost panicked as he stuttered, “B-But I don’t know how!”

 

Mister Loki’s head snapped down and he ordered in a voice of finality, “Well, you had better figure it out before I decide to make you feel _nothing_.”

 

He pointed to the mirror behind Peter’s head, while the boy stared in shock, still reeling slightly from the blatant threat. Loki ordered, “Don’t go near the mirror again. Stay away from it and do as I say. I do not enjoy harming children, but if you continue to grieve so violently I will be forced to intervene. So, _control_ it.”

 

When Mister Loki turned to leave, Peter called, his voice cracking, “Wa-Wait!”

 

Loki sighed, and didn’t turn to face him again, but stood still while he waited for the request. Peter went on, “Could I…Could I have some dry clothes?”

 

Mister Loki was silent for a long moment before he answered, “You’ll find some in your quarters. Go.”

 

_“Oh, please don’t go – we’ll eat you up!”_

Peter supposed it didn’t mean the same thing…but something was eating him up and the more he was left alone, the more threatening it was, even if it loved him so very dearly. The thing eating him might have desired him, but Peter desired to be alive. To be Real. To be with his father. He desired the Before without a permanent timeline.

 

But he supposed…illusions didn’t get to have preferences.

 

…

 

Loki retreated to the sitting room.

 

The entire goal was to get rid of the anger that was making him want to strangle the boy to death. To inflict pain and suffering, but Loki was not cruel and he didn’t think it would do to harm a child that was grieving so very deeply. Loki paced the room, running both hands through his hair as he paused and looked up at the ceiling, glaring darkly, through it, into the emptiness that he knew was bound to be there, waiting on the other side.

 

“This is your game?” He growled, “Place the boy with me? And what? Ultimately have me murder him a second time out of frustration? What will that do?”

 

Peter was burdensome, but Loki did not wish to harm him. It was edging nearer to that though, Loki did not trust himself to remain patient with a practical _infant_ , a child made of glass that threatened to shatter every time he even so much as thought about the memory of his father that was obviously still alive. Loki hadn’t the slightest clue where the mirror had come from, whether or not the boy’s imagination had conjured it up, from somewhere deep in his soul, but Loki knew it was dangerous and he considered a moment destroying it. But it felt risky to do more to the house than necessary, it was beginning to sway in favor of the boy and Loki felt a bit betrayed by that, considering he had made most of it himself.

 

It wasn’t all magic, being in the Soul Stone meant the core of oneself was exposed like a bleeding wound, and the boy did bleed. He bled violently, and Loki had never met someone who let themselves cry so freely in front of a complete stranger.

 

Loki stared at the fire in front of him before he folded his hands together and stilled, shutting his eyes and taking in a deep breath. His heart felt like the royal trumpets when his father or brother would return from battle. He wanted silence so badly, but there was a humming that had been there ever since the boy had arrived. Appeared out of thin air, soaked.

 

He had nearly gotten a handle on himself, meditative breathing and all when a small voice called from the door, “Mister Loki?”

 

Great. Not only was the child irritating, he was noncompliant with orders to stay in his room. Twice was twice too many to be ignored and Loki whirled to face him, eyes narrowing. Peter was in the doorway, changed out of the silly costume he had been wearing, now into something a bit closer to what an Asgardian child would wear. A white shirt and black pants with a maroon cloak. His hair was askew, and it vaguely reminded Loki of looking at his brother when they were younger. Except instead of round blue eyes, the boy’s were wide and brown, like a trusting animal.

 

What a misplaced person to put trust in.

 

“Well,” Loki commented, “At least now you don’t look so ridiculous.”

 

The child tugged idly at the cloak, “This feels kind of ridiculous.”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow but faced the fire once more, saying, “When I told you to get your clothes from your quarters, I had intended for you to stay there.”

 

There wasn’t a response, and Loki felt the annoyance rise in him again and honestly, he didn’t even know why he felt annoyed. Maybe because he was tired of being able to sense the overflowing presence of the boy in the Soul World. He felt like…like standing in the sun too long. A thawing feeling that, while nice, was overbearing and contrasted Loki’s too greatly. Maybe that was why the boy was always shivering when Loki looked at him. He was either cold from emitting so much warmth to the emptiness around him or he was being overrun by Loki’s own presence.

 

“I-I,” Loki was even more irritated when the boy couldn’t seem to speak in comprehensible sentences, but when he faced him once more, he kept his face passive, waiting as Peter struggled over his own tongue, “I just wanted to say…I’m sorry. For hurting your house.”

 

Loki blinked, “It isn’t really a house, Spider.”

 

“I know,” Peter said, “But it’s yours and I’m kind of…torturing it. It’s getting all peely and stuff. A-And then I yelled at you and you had to drag me out of a mirror and its just been really weird.”

 

Peter moved into the room and his hands were wringing like Loki had noticed they often did, together, over and over again. Peter shrugged slightly and continued, looking at Loki before his eyes found the wall behind him and he said, as if he felt shameful of himself, “I just miss home…I miss my dad, and in the mirror…I saw him…and he’s hurting.”

 

Loki let out a puff of air. The child reminded him of Thor again, so open about his thoughts and Loki didn’t really like it very much. The god crossed his arms over his chest and replied bluntly, “Grief runs a violent course. I imagine most fathers would grieve their sons.”

 

“Most?” Peter questioned.

 

The boy latched onto such odd things. Loki ground his teeth together and shook his head, “Not all fathers care for their sons, I assumed this was common knowledge.”

 

Loki pretended he didn’t see a look of remorse on Peter’s face. Peter stated, without a hint of doubt in the back of his boyish voice, “My dad will come…a-and Thor will come for you too.”

 

Loki scoffed, rather blatant in his disbelief as he glared darkly at Peter, though the anger wasn’t necessarily directed towards the child. Sometimes he just said things that made Loki’s skin crawl in an unnerving sort of way. How he could seem so sure in his trust of others. Loki said, voice sharp and laced with an underlying venom, “Your faith is misguided. We are alone here, and it will remain that way for some time to come.”

 

Peter blinked, and out of seemingly nowhere, said, “You’re lonely.”

 

Loki didn’t understand where the origin of the statement had formed, but Peter went on, “Like the king of all wild things.”

 

“And who is that?” Loki snapped, face burning slightly with frustration because he didn’t understand this child.

 

“Max,” Peter provided simply, “But…it’s gonna be okay, Mister Loki. We’re gonna be okay and I promise we’ll get home somehow.”

 

Loki’s face continued to burn.

 

He didn’t know who Max, the king of all wild things was, but he sounded pathetic.


	3. The Secret Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re…are you…” Peter started, shaking his head, “Are you Gamora?”
> 
> She frowned, then nodded, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all so much for reading so far! And to everyone who followed me on tumblr and has sent me such nice messages, thanks to you guys too! I love you all, gaaaahhhh and I hope you enjoy this chapter. ❤

Tony didn’t think about that day all the time. It had actually been filed away, along with other memories of those first few weeks with Peter. Not that those memories were bad or anything, but at the edge, that’s what they were. With the entire Hydra ordeal polluting the good moments, Tony forgot sometimes how it went and the dream didn’t always come to him in that way. He avoided sleep so much, he rarely dreamed, but he did then.

 

A boy, small, sitting on the floor and coloring in a tiny room. When Tony entered, the child’s back was turned to him and though Tony didn’t necessarily feel poignant anxiety, he certainly felt something that impeded him from approaching too quickly. It was like a wave of emotion, that dissipated and dragged pieces of him off, like sand. A familiar scene, with resentment in tow.

 

He knew what this was. He knew what day it was, and when the boy turned to look up at him, Tony saw the face of his four-year-old, with wide brown eyes that he hadn’t quite grown into yet, and still hadn’t at sixteen. Tony’s chest clenched tightly, and he cringed back as if struck by the back of a hand. This was Peter. Peter when he was still so small, small enough to keep safe. Small enough to keep inside, and away from the evil the world had to offer. Before he wanted to be a superhero and before Spider-Man.

 

When Tony could still keep him safe.

 

This was the beautiful thing that Starks were never supposed to create, and maybe that was Tony’s curse. Peter wasn’t supposed to have existed so wonderfully and perfectly. Because somewhere down the line Starks had gone dark and cursed themselves with ‘bad luck’. Peter was the only good thing to have come from Tony’s life, the only good thing he had created. Sure, he had created Iron Man, the Avengers, but was that really good? Sokovia would say otherwise. Charles Spencer’s mother would say otherwise.

 

Maybe now, after disintegrating, Peter would say otherwise.

 

  _Hi,”_ The boy greeted.

 

And Tony was reliving it all over again. He continued to stand, and things derailed when Peter stood and stared up at him. He approached slowly, before he was standing directly in front of Tony and Tony fought the urge to reach down and shake him and wish for him to be real. Peter tilted his head to the side, slowly, eyes curious as he questioned, _“Are you okay?”_

 

Tony couldn’t speak. He had no voice.

 

The boy gestured for Tony to kneel down. He could do that at least and once he was on the child’s level, Peter leaned forward and whispered in his ear, _“I know that you’re not. I’ve always known, Daddy. You couldn’t even get better for me.”_

 

The boy pulled away and cupped Tony’s cheeks before he said, _“That’s why Thanos killed me. Because you couldn’t be better.”_

Tony jolted awake on the bathroom floor, immediately lurching to a sitting position and vomiting into the toilet. He closed his eyes, waiting for the moment to pass, for the nausea to creep away, but it had almost been so quick didn’t feel the nausea come in. His skin was sweating, and the room felt too hot, too small, but he had slept on the bathroom floor for fear his lurching stomach would attack him, and it had.

 

Recovering from his escapade with the raccoon was going rather roughly.

 

He plopped back, pulling the lever on the toilet and sending the contents away. Tony pushed himself against the wall behind him, sucking in a deep breath and running a hand through his hair as the burning in his throat passed. If alcohol burned going down, it burned ten times worse coming up.

 

He hadn’t just gone to hide in the suite’s bathroom because he was sick though, he had done it in case Steve or Rhodey tried to send anyone else to confront him about his absence and ultimate alcohol binge. Things were bad enough without them trying to play psychiatrist and the entire Clint situation had been a low blow, indeed. Right under the belt.

 

Unfortunately, the plan of avoidance didn’t last very long, because the bathroom door opened suddenly and Rhodey appeared there. Tony glared darkly from his place on the floor and Rhodey approached, holding out an aspirin and a glass of water without a word. Tony assumed, had he not been so pathetic, Rhodey would have scolded him for doing something so stupid at his age, like getting drunk out of his mind in a Wakandan palace with the help of a talking raccoon named Rocket, and Tony still wasn’t over that.

 

Tony down the water and the aspirin, looking for a way out…

 

“You look awful.”

 

Maybe Rhodey wasn’t as merciful as Tony thought. He glared at the man, eyes narrowing dangerously as he croaked hoarsely, “Well, I’ve seen better days, Rhodes.”

 

Rhodey sighed, not like disappointment, but like…relenting. He kneeled down slowly onto one knee beside Tony and he spoke quietly, in the only way that Rhodey could, a way that Tony heard many times over the years of being Rhodey’s friend, “I’m worried about you.”

 

“I’ve been back a day,” Tony snapped, “A _day_. My kid is dead…I can barely…I can barely wrap my head around that as it is, and now I have everyone breathing down my neck, expecting me to fix this, and what the hell do you want me to do? What do you think is so different this time that I could even remotely fix this?”

 

Rhodey reached out and squeezed his shoulder, “You have us this time. You’re not on your own. This time…This time we can work together – “

 

Tony laughed bitterly, “Who? What’s left of the Avengers? There’re just scraps, Rhodes, we’re the leftovers.”

 

“You’re right,” Rhodey agreed, “But we’re here and we can do something. You can do something. Shouldn’t that hope of seeing Peter again be enough? Because I know for me, it is. I wanna see that kid again, Tones. I wanna see him, Wanda, Sam, all of them…I want to see them all again. And fighting is the only way we’re going to do that.”

 

Tony felt his eyes burn. Rhodey didn’t understand, Tony was so _tired_. He sucked in a deep breath, drawing the tears back and he looked away, blinking rapidly. The thought of another ‘great battle’ was overwhelming and he just had the urge to crawl into a hole and stay there. Not out of fear, but out of exhaustion. He physically, mentally, and emotionally ached. He had spent so many years fighting, and he just…he didn’t have a reason to anymore. Peter was _gone_. And sure he had Pepper, but he was useless to her in his state.

 

He was useless to anyone.

 

Useless to his child.

 

Rhodey’s hand squeezed tighter, “We can get them back.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Tony croaked.

 

Rhodey laughed, but it was weak, almost disbelieving, “Stranger things have been done.”

 

Tony supposed he was being ignorant then. Not believing they could do anything about what had happened, or saying so. There was just a lot going on inside, and that threshold was too far to pass. Like creating a new element, and just accepting the fact that his reactor was ultimately going to kill him. That it was going to end everything. Because it was too hard to dream so big, and in the end, Howard had to do it for him.

 

_At first, people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done…_

God, Tony didn’t want to do it.

 

_Then they see it can be done…_

He swallowed thickly, thinking of Peter’s round, four-year-old face. His wide eyes. The trust that had always been there, and if Peter was in fact somewhere…he would be waiting for Tony. He would be waiting for him to come for him and so Tony looked at Rhodey, knowing full and well all of this was bound to kill him but he ordered, “Get everyone.”

 

Rhodey didn’t smile, necessarily, but relief flooded his face. He stood to his feet, and left the bathroom and Tony took the time to put himself back together to the best of his ability. He washed his face and brushed his teeth and got a cup of black coffee to fight the drowsiness that always followed a hangover. It was a numb autopilot of sorts, putting himself in gear, and he tried not to let his conversation with Clint wander in because he was still somewhat upset without himself over that, but pretended not to be because it was easier that way.

 

He didn’t really know where he was going when he wandered the corridors of the palace. Things were quieter that day, than they had been the day before, when Tony had gotten back and he wondered why. What was different, but he didn’t ask anyone. He only asked an employee where he could find his ‘friends’ and they pointed him in the correct direction of a giant meeting room, that might have been a throne room, because there was an empty chair there and there was something unsettling in that.

 

Everyone in the room was talking until Tony pushed the large door open and entered. The hum of voices disappeared and everyone turned to face him, and Tony downed the last of his coffee before tossing the cup aside haphazardly. He tried not to let his true distress show, he tried to put on the façade, but nothing had ever cut him so deeply in his life and he was struggling to stay upright at that moment.

 

There was this weight in their eyes, reflecting off the grey walls. The empty throne glared at him, a reminder of what they were missing. Steve was standing near the center of the room, seemingly ripped out of deep conversation with Rhodey and Thor. Bruce and Nat were further over, arms over their chests. Bruce looked incredibly exhausted and Nat, per usual appeared unfazed by Tony’s entrance. And then there was Clint…in the corner, observing.

 

Rocket the Raccoon was there as well, standing on one of the chairs as if to make himself taller, with Nebula looking about ready to strangle him. Rocket was the first to speak, rolling his eyes and groaning, “Oh great, now we got the guy who can’t handle his liquor. This just makes the situation so much better!”

 

Tony’s brows furrowed. He had assumed all the whispering and looks of frustration were aimed towards him, but suddenly he wasn’t sure and there was something frustrating about not having the entire situation figured out. Tony walked down the few steps to the main level, asking, “I’m gone two weeks and there’s an issue?”

 

“There’s always an issue,” Bruce approached, clapping him lightly on the shoulder, “Good to see you up.”

 

Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes like the raccoon had done, “Well, Rhodey and Clint kind of attacked me since Rogers isn’t brave enough to bother me himself, so he sent in reinforcements to handle my emotional outburst.”

 

Steve’s face contorted from frustration with the conversation to hurt. His eyes softened considerably and honestly, Tony couldn’t remember the last time they were in the same, until suddenly he did and he fought the urge to flinch back. Because that had been bad and stuff, and Tony really didn’t need the flashbacks of the Siberian cold right in that moment when he already felt cold enough. He got closer though, forcing his body to relax as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“So…What’s the ‘tiff’ about?” Tony questioned.

 

He didn’t like the way they were looking at him, besides Nebula and Rocket, everyone was observing him like something on the edge of shattering and Tony fought the urge to scream at them. He knew screaming would only reinforce that he was not handling anything well, but if he was going to be trusted and if he was going to help them figure something out, he needed to be put together, at least a little bit.

 

Nat finally answered, much to his surprise, “Game plan disagreements. The big boys don’t want to play by each other’s’ standards.”

 

Tony looked at Thor and Steve, waiting for a response. Thor looked much different from the last time Tony saw him. When neither of the men said anything Tony complimented, “Nice haircut. I like it, it suits you, you on the other hand…” He turned to Steve, “Need to shave.”

 

He turned his back, going towards the windows. He peered out, over the land, and it was scarred from battle. Tony sighed and didn’t look over his shoulder as he explained, “When I turn back around I want all the sad stares done with and I want in on the situation. I’m not gonna freak out or have a Britney moment, I’ve got my shit together, so on the count of three…one…two…”

 

He glanced at Clint who was still in the corner of the room. Clint gave him a knowing stare and Tony finished, “Three.”

 

When he turned back around their expressions hadn’t really changed, but he ordered Thor and Steve bluntly, “Alright, explain.”

 

“Thor wants to draw Thanos here somehow,” Rhodey explained for them, “And Steve thinks that’s a no-go and that we need to find him and corner him somewhere.”

 

Thor cut in, “We will never trace where Thanos is. He is probably on the other side of the galaxy by now and going to find him isn’t a viable option. The only way for us to get to him is to draw him out of hiding and have something waiting for him. Something big.”

 

“We have nothing he wants,” Steve sounded exasperated, and Tony assumed this probably wasn’t the first time he was forced to explain this to the group, “He got what he wanted, half the universe is gone, and he has the stones. That’s the only reason he came to Earth in the first place, which means we have no way of drawing him out of his hiding place. And I don’t exactly feel comfortable bringing him back to Wakanda. The last thing we need to risk is him leveling the whole planet out of irritation.”

 

Thor shook his head, “As I said before, he has all of the stones. If he doesn’t want to be found, he never will be.”

 

“Then what do you suppose we get that he wants?” Steve questioned, before he gestured to Nebula, “She says he already murdered his own daughter to get one of the stones. This guy doesn’t seem like he has attachments.”

 

Thor was silent, face going from fierce to lost. Tony shrugged his shoulders and sighed, “Hate to say it, big guy, but I agree with Cap on this one.”

 

Everyone looked surprised and Tony ignored the way Nat smirked at him admitting such defeat, but there was something comforting in the fact that she wasn’t treating him like glass. Rocket interjected, “You’re an indecisive group of dumbasses, you know that? Just find a plan and stick with it! This guy isn’t sayin’ anything we haven’t heard yet!”

 

Tony shook his head and went on, “We’re not gonna get Thanos here. He’s not gonna risk coming to us, he already did what he set out to do. Our best bet is to go in and screw up whatever twisted retirement plan he has and blow it to shit. So…”

 

He looked at Nebula, and the robot/lady didn’t react as he continued, “You’re the closest thing we have to a ‘friend’ of Thanos. Any theories on where he could go? Did he ever talk about where he’d like to kick his feet up after mass murder?”

 

Nebula was quiet. The fierceness behind her eyes had dimmed somewhere during their spaceship ride back to Earth and Tony had yet to see it again, not like how it was when they were battling on Titan. Where she had found out about her sister. Tony waited, and eventually she found her words, “It has been too long since I’ve had a true conversation with Thanos for me to even theorize…I suppose there was a chance one of his followers would know, but I’m unsure of what came of them.”

 

“Well, the chick is dead,” Nat stated firmly. Tony watched as Thor patted her shoulder, as if proud of her accomplishment.

 

“So is the big guy,” Bruce added.

 

Steve nodded as well, “Vision offed one of ‘em…”

 

Tony pursed his lips, “And Squidward got sucked out of a spaceship.”

 

“Oh great,” Clint huffed from the corner, getting a bit closer to the group as things had seemed to relax more to his standards, “So you guys offed every single person we could possibly interrogate, that’s awesome.”

 

Nat narrowed her eyes, “Self-Preservation, Barton.”

 

“Right sooo,” Steve sounded tired all over again, “What do we do now?”

 

Rocket butted in suddenly, “You said ‘Squidward’ or something got sucked out of a ship?”

 

Tony nodded and Rocket held up his hands, as if the answer was obvious. He then gestured to Thor and exclaimed, “Well shit! This guy survived being blown out of a ship. I don’t know if you know this or not, but not everyone is as puny and pitiful as humans and some creatures _can_ survive being sucked into space and frozen.”

 

No one said anything, not until Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, “So are you suggesting we…pluck this guy’s body out? And what, defrost him like Austin Powers?”

 

“Who the hell is Austin Powers?” The raccoon asked, “Whatever, yeah that’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

 

Tony looked around the room. The other occupants didn’t seem against the idea, particularly, and when Tony’s gaze found Steve, Steve simply shrugged his shoulders, expression appearing like they had no other option to pursue. Thor even looked like he agreed with the plan, and Tony glanced back at Rocket and waved a hand.

 

“Fine…What else do we got, right?”

 

_…then it is done. And all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago._

_…_

The fire in the sitting room was beginning to be the only place Peter could find warmth.

 

That was where Peter slept, where he sat, where he read books that he found around their ‘cell’. Loki rarely spoke to him, and when he did it was usually to comment on Peter acting so oddly, but Peter couldn’t really help it. It felt like he was freezing to death and the soul world didn’t have a thermostat. So…he stayed where he was, pulling his new cloak tighter around his shoulders every time a shiver would course up his spine.

 

Peter had come to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t that Loki disliked him, but it was Loki didn’t know how to _deal_ with him. They seemed to be on two very different spectrums when it came to feelings and things inside the soul world felt so tangible. Every time Peter found himself aching over his father, the room would seemingly dim, and Loki would become a thistle, on edge, like he knew exactly what was going on in Peter’s emotions. Like it was bothering him somehow.

 

The house behaved like Peter was bothering it too.

 

So, Peter often thought of nothing, just to keep the bad thoughts away or distracted them with the books. _The Secret Garden_ had been the choice for the past few days, or maybe just hours? Weeks? Peter wasn’t sure, because there was no night and day. He slept when he felt tired and he got up when he felt like getting up. Loki seemed to follow a schedule and Peter wondered how prisoners survived years and years of being locked away.

 

He had a feeling this wasn’t Loki’s first rodeo.

 

Peter didn’t know how he felt about the book. The little girl Mary had been frustrating at first, and he hadn’t quite understood why she had to be so mean. But eventually, he got a grasp of the pain that she avoided, and her misunderstanding of it all. He thought of her cousin, Colin, and how he had been locked in his room because of his disability and never allowed to leave and Peter just dreaded the idea of being locked in their ‘house’ forever.

 

He had finished the book fairly quickly and he shut it, setting it down on the floor in front of him. It had been quiet, and he hadn’t seen Loki in a while, or even heard him, but what he did hear was the same humming he always did. He was tempted to go to the mirror, of course, but he knew that would result in something bad, and Loki would be upset. The wallpaper hadn’t stopped peeling and got worse whenever Peter slept and had nightmares and Loki was always complaining about it and telling Peter to stop, but he truly didn’t know how.

 

The humming told him to go, but Loki had said no, and it wasn’t the humming that Peter was having to be roomies with. It was Loki, and Loki didn’t like him, no matter how much Peter tried to strike up conversation. And despite Loki blaming the grief in the house on Peter, Peter knew better. Loki was hurt too, in a similar sort of way, but the god wouldn’t talk about it and Peter was so desperate to talk.

 

Peter covered his ears, the humming growing incessant.

 

_“Peter.”_

The boy stiffened, uncovering his ears suddenly, and his eyes widened. He stared at the door from where he sat in front of the fireplace. His hands dropped to his sides and he would have thought it was Loki, but it wasn’t. It was the voice of a child, and Peter felt something like ice form in his stomach as he pushed himself to his feet and began to approach the hallway. It came from the same direction in which the mirror was and he chanted in his own mind, not to go. Not to disobey Loki’s commands, but he couldn’t help it.

 

_“Peter.”_

He rushed down the hallway, praying Loki wouldn’t emerge from one of the rooms, but Peter honestly didn’t know where he was and wasn’t going to question it until he figured out what was going on. He found the mirror once more, in the same spot in which he had left it, and the humming was almost unbearable at that point. Peter could see himself, but he was blurry this time, and the ripples in the mirror were forming without him even disturbing it. As if the humming was shaking the mirror to its very core.

 

_“Peter…Peter…His name was Peter.”_

It sounded like a girl…Soft and upset. Peter looked back, down the empty hall, not seeing Loki and he knew he would be in trouble. He knew he would probably get yelled at, but in that moment he couldn’t find the will to care. He instead turned back around, and this time, without hesitation like he had held before when reaching in, he stepped through, grabbing the mirror at the edges to make it simpler to cross the threshold.

 

This time, instead of water, it felt like he was plummeting head first through dark air. Nothing. Until he was ripping to the surface of solid ground, stumbling slightly when he appeared. He was whole once more, but no longer in the hallway and was instead surrounded by emptiness. It was orange, and the ground was wet, but didn’t soak his shoes and he instead stood on the surface. The light was almost blinding, like their orange fireplace in the sitting room. Peter saw a vast land, until he heard the girl’s voice once more.

 

“I know Peter is there.”

 

She sounded kind of angry and Peter whirled, seeing something not far from where he had reformed. Pillars, in the center of the solid lake. A structure he did not recognize and standing under it was a tiny form…a girl, _the_ girl. And above her was a giant figure, tall and Peter didn’t need to see clearly to recognize the nightmare of a being, because Peter had dreamt of him stabbing his father ever since he had arrived in the house with Loki. Peter’s hands shook, and he stepped back slightly, heart hammering in his ribcage.

 

“Peter was _real_ ,” She whispered.

 

“He was nothing,” Thanos’ voice growled, and Peter stepped forward, frightened he might try to hurt the girl and even if Peter was terrified…even if he didn’t have his suit…he wasn’t going to stand by and watch Thanos hurt someone else, especially not a small child, “He was a dream…A fantasy. You are here now, with me, and you _will_ obey.”

 

The little girl stepped forward like Peter had done, mouth setting into a hard line and eyes glaring and Peter didn’t understand how someone so small could be so brave, because didn’t she know who Thanos was? Didn’t she know what he had done? Peter fought the urge to run and intervene immediately, because obviously she didn’t know…because if she did she wouldn’t have been so brash in her words, “You are _lying_.”

 

Thanos let out a low sound, threatening, and he reached out. The moment he did, Peter, despite his terror, shouted across the expanse and it echoed off of nothing, “Hey!”

 

Both Thanos and the girl looked over. The little girl’s frustration melted into confusion and the monster’s face turned into rage. The little girl looked at Thanos as the titan stepped slightly in front of her, but Peter was still able to make her out. Thanos shouted, a sudden fury overwhelming his features, “What are you doing here, boy!? Get out! Go back where I placed you!”

 

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing escaped him. If Thanos really had full control of the Soul Stone, how could he not know about the mirror? About its humming and whispering and the voices that filtered through? The little girl continued to eye Peter curiously and she looked up at Thanos. Peter thought, surely he was dead, because when Peter did nothing, Thanos made a brief advancement that was cut off quickly by the little girl reaching out. She simply touched Thanos’ arm and to Peter’s shock…Thanos turned to a pile of bricks.

 

The boy’s eyes nearly jumped out of his head as the little girl simply stepped over the bricks and began to cross the water, calmly and collectedly towards Peter. Suddenly he wished very much that he had stayed in the house with Loki and not ventured out, because he was beginning to worry that maybe this girl was worse…more powerful. If she had turned Thanos to bricks then…then…

 

“He gets angry,” The little girl said suddenly, “So I make him leave sometimes. He always returns with the use of the gauntlet.”

 

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know why Thanos would have a reason to continually return and be angry at the little girl. She got close enough so that she was staring up at Peter with wide, curious eyes and Peter fought the urge to cringe away in fear. She didn’t seem scary, but she had just turned Thanos to bricks and that wasn’t…Well, it wasn’t really normal for a little girl inside a dream world.

 

She turned her head slightly, “Who are you?”

 

He suddenly realized she was green. So odd…it had been drowned out by the orange, but when she was so close he could see it. Peter gulped past the lump in his throat and whispered, “I-I-I’m Peter.”

 

She smiled suddenly, but it looked sad and Peter wanted to ask why. But he had only just met her, and yet he no longer feared her because of that smile, even if it didn’t seem terribly happy. It seemed genuine and human and nothing like evil or Thanos. She was good and Peter could feel it, like a lightbulb switching on in the back of his skull telling him it was safe. She was safe.

 

“I know a Peter,” She said, “I don’t remember much about him, I know he existed. He was real…even if _he_ says he wasn’t. Peter Quill…but now I…I’m afraid something awful has been done to him.”

 

Peter’s heart fluttered a minute and he questioned, “You know Star Lord?”

 

Her eyes didn’t seem to recognize that name and Peter shook his head back and forth and went on, almost excitedly, like meeting someone that had a common friend, “I-I know him! I mean, I knew him for a little while, when I was still…well, anyway…He was awesome.”

 

“Was?” Her voice cracked.

 

Oh right…Was.

 

“Well,” Peter started slowly, trying to soften it to the best of his ability…but they were there in the Soul Stone, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt her so much to know that. Peter looked down at the water, unable to see his reflection as he went on, “Well…he…you know, Thanos kind of turned us to a-ash.”

 

To his surprise, her face barely reacted to the news. Her voice had before she gave away her true feelings, but her face didn’t budge in concern or anguish. It held deep resolve. She seemed so much older than she really was, and Peter thought children inside the stone would be afraid, more like him and he was starting to think maybe he was being a big baby about everything because here was this little girl who didn’t even seem afraid or upset to hear such news.

 

She instead, grimaced, “I’m sorry you were a victim…and I’m sorry Peter Quill was as well. I wish I could remember more of him…I know I loved him…”

 

Then something in Peter sparked…something like a distant memory.

 

_“Where’s Gamora?”_

_“With Thanos? No, I’m here to kill Thanos. He took my girl.”_

_“Tell me she’s lying…Asshole, tell me you didn’t do it!”_

All of the anguish. Everything…It hit Peter in the chest. Quill’s grief, ringing out over Titan, and someone named Gamora, faceless and apparently dead at Thanos’ hands. Peter stepped back from the little girl suddenly, heart stuttering with agony and he suddenly felt a pain he didn’t recognize. Like it was given to him second hand. Not his own, but that of someone else and he wondered why it was rushing in like fire. Like murky water, rising into his lungs from the depths of loss.

 

Oh no…No.

 

“You’re…are you…” Peter started, shaking his head, “Are you Gamora?”

 

She frowned, then nodded, “Yes.”

 

Peter ran a hand through his hair and looked away. Thanos had her here…Thanos had cared for her, hadn’t he? Hadn’t that been what they had said? In some twisted, dark way, he had _mourned_ Gamora and yet had been the one to murder her. And now he had her here, in the form of a child and there was something cruel in that. Peter’s mouth trembled, and he looked down at her, blinking back tears and she asked, “What are you crying for?”

 

Peter bit his lip, “For you.”

 

She seemed taken aback by that answer, her eyes blinking rapidly, and she questioned, “Why?”

 

“B-Because…” Peter tried to explain, “He killed _you_ …Thanos killed you…and he has you _here_.”

 

He had expected something. Like pain or sadness. But she only sighed deeply, as if Peter was the younger of the two, and maybe he was because shouldn’t she have been an adult? She spoke like speaking to a child, “He has killed many. And this is simply a…collateral of being the child of Thanos.”

 

The child of Thanos.

 

Thanos was her father…And he had murdered her.

 

Peter couldn’t imagine his dad ever, _ever_ hurting him. And he didn’t know why he was crying suddenly. He sniffled, rubbing his hands over his face as he looked away and he heard her try and sooth him, “You are kind to cry for me. You don’t even know me. I see why he would want to collect you. He has always found the compassionate ones to be fascinating, but I think there must be an underlying reason as well.”

 

He couldn’t respond, trying to contain himself. Trying to calm the upset that wasn’t even his. If she wasn’t crying over her death, Peter didn’t know why he was. He just felt so awful for her…for Star Lord. It wasn’t fair to either of them. And now Thanos had her soul. She couldn’t even escape him in death.

 

Something, some kind of look flashed across her face and she spoke, “The Mischievous One will be angry you’re here.”

 

Peter’s brows furrowed. How did she know…?

 

“I can feel his presence on you,” She answered, as if she could hear his thoughts, “His soul has left a residue. Yours is light and his is…singed.”

 

“W-What – “

 

Peter didn’t get the chance to finish before she stepped closer, “You must go. I will keep our conversation a secret from Thanos when he returns.”

 

_A secret garden._

Maybe Gamora was a secret garden.

 

Peter wanted desperately to stay. Her presence was much more inviting than Loki’s and she talked to him like a regular person, not something that was on the verge of breaking and destroying. He had only just met her, but he had figured out why Star Lord wanted her back so badly. Peter wanted to protect her from Thanos, but he couldn’t. He had nothing to protect her with, and with a simple wave of her hand, the water below him opened up and he fell through, dropping and being submerged.

 

He hit the floor, suddenly, falling out of the mirror. Once again, he was soaked to the bone, and he felt sort of guilty because he was going to have to ask Loki for clothes again. He landed on is back, before he pushed himself to his elbows, blinking in shock at the mirror in front of him. He shivered, the cold hitting him and it had been so much warmer where Gamora was.

 

Peter sat up straight, pushing himself to his feet and beginning to run down the hallway. He called out, without really thinking of repercussions, “Mister Loki!”

 

He ran and ran until he finally turned into the sitting room. Loki was there, and Peter felt relieved because if he had been forced to search every single room, nearly freezing to death once more in his cold clothes, he wasn’t sure if he could do it. He rounded the corner into the room, immediately drowned in the warmth of the fire and Loki whirled around to look at him in surprise at his suddenly entrance.

 

And then he saw Peter was soaked again. The shock turned to anger.

 

Peter didn’t know why he was surprised.

 

“What did you – “ Loki started, but Peter interrupted.

 

“I saw Thanos,” He gasped, entering further and approaching the god with wide, brown eyes, “I saw him i-in the mirror. He was with a girl named Gamora, she’s his – “

 

“Daughter, I _know_ ,” Loki snapped, causing Peter to jump, “I could have sworn I told you not to go near the mirror again.”

 

Peter gestured behind himself madly, “It was… _calling_ me, Mister Loki. I had to…and I mean…don’t you think it’s weird that we have something here that can connect us to places like outside in the real world or different pockets?”

 

“The mirror was your doing,” Loki ground out, glaring down at Peter, “You created it, you dreamt it up with your agony. It is dangerous to our very existence and crossing into other pockets or even the physical world could result in some kind of repercussion. You’ve disobeyed me. For the: what is it now? Third time?”

 

Peter felt heat rising into his face. An anger he didn’t recognize, because it so rarely consumed him. He was just so…frustrated and tired and he wanted Loki to listen to him because this was the only person he had to talk to and Loki was constantly rejecting him. Peter looked at Loki, eyes burning with rage as he shouted, voicing cracking slightly from the strain, “Why do you think I have to do whatever you say!? We’re both here, we’re both trapped, which means we’re both equally screwed over, so why should I have to listen!? I’m the one trying to figure this out and you’re just sitting around…like – like you’re _happy_ to be here!”

 

Loki looked taken aback, but Peter didn’t stop his tirade, “You’re scared. You’re scared and you’re just sitting here because Thanos makes you afraid and you’re being a _coward_.”

 

The shock quickly turned into something Peter didn’t recognize. Like he too was suddenly angry, but it was like a white-hot flame that Peter couldn’t even begin to process. Loki stepped towards him, and Peter instinctively reached out to push him away, grabbing his forearm to keep him back. The moment he touched the god’s sleeve, however, Peter was suddenly ripped from the room, mind flashing somewhere he did not belong.

 

_“Am I cursed?”_ Loki’s voice asked, causing Peter’s mind to rush in confusion.

 

_“No,”_ An unfamiliar voice spoke…older…different, _“Put the casket down.”_

Peter could see nothing. No one…the words were like a dream, and Peter thought…Loki was a dream in that moment. Nothing was actually there, but Peter felt cold, frozen. And so did Loki, under his hand.

 

_“What am I?”_ Loki sounded desperate.

_“You’re my son.”_

Peter’s heart sank…the voice of Loki’s father, then. That was what it was, a memory, like the one – the dream, Peter had been shown of Loki’s death. Peter wondered if this too was something true. But nothing was tangible where Peter floated. Where he floated between himself and mind. Loki questioned _, “What more than that?”_

There was no response, and Loki’s voice continued, losing steadiness, _“The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”_

And then the man…Loki’s father…explained, _“No…_ _In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the Temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring – abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son.”_

Though Peter couldn’t see…something like stones slammed into his chest and he was left wondering if it was truly him feeling this, or Loki. If he could feel what he felt, because the despair was too great for something out of context. Something Peter didn’t truly understand, but something inside of him put him in that place. Made him realize this was actual pain he was feeling, actual betrayal, and Peter didn’t know Loki’s father…or _not_ father, so he didn’t know why it felt like a blade had been dug between his shoulders.

 

_“Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?”_

_“You were an innocent child,”_ The man said.

 

_“You took me for a purpose, what was it?”_ Loki insisted, and Peter could make out the rising blood-boiling rage and hurt and Peter felt weak. He felt sick to his stomach and he blinked rapidly, trying to see, but it was blocked out, like a memory that wasn’t meant to be remembered.

 

Loki’s scream made Peter’s heart shatter _, “Tell me!”_

_“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace... through you. But those plans no longer matter.”_

_“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me.”_

The man questioned _, “Why do you twist my words?”_

Loki ignored his question with his own _, “You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn’t you?”_

_“You are my son…my blood,”_ But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Peter didn’t know why that felt like anger, like teeth gnashing hatred, because he didn’t even know this man…but Loki’s fuming was volatile and Peter felt _all_ of it, _“I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”_

_“Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”_

_“Don’t…”_

_“It all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all these years. Because no matter how much you claim to ‘love’ me you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”_

Then the cold was gone…and Peter’s eyes shot open. He was standing in front of Loki once more and the god no longer looked like he was going to strike him, but instead looked shocked. Peter stood, mouth agape and eyes burning with tears that he realized were staining his face. He was crying, and his nose was clogged and his chest quaking as he pulled away from Loki in shock at the sudden exchange. A picture fell off the wall and several books collapsed from the shelves. Loki looked around in horror and quickly approached Peter, grabbing him tightly by his shoulders.

 

“Calm down,” Loki ordered, his voice unnaturally soft, “Calm down.”

 

Peter sucked in a heavy sob, shaking his head back and forth, “I’m sorry…Y-You…I’m so sorry that happened Mister Loki, that was so unfair…Did that really happen?”

 

His voice cracked on the last word, and Loki looked terrified. Or maybe petrified was a better word. More books fell from the shelves and Peter tried to calm his breathing, but it was coming out quickly, and he just didn’t know how to tell Loki how sorry he was. The feelings weren’t his own, yet they were there, and it almost felt as if his own father had done such a thing, but he hadn’t. Like he had lived Loki’s memory for him. Loki’s grip tightened, and the god insisted, “Do not…do not apologize, it had nothing to do with you. It was long ago, and there’s no reason to cry anymore over it…So _please_ …calm down.”

 

Peter didn’t know if he had ever heard Loki say please in a genuine way. Peter held his breath, trying to comply. He really wanted to. He looked up at the god, and wished he knew him better to tell him that everything was okay, and that Loki had a right to be upset after being lied to. But he was struggling…

 

“I’m just…so sorry,” Peter whispered, finally managing to breathe and the books stopped falling as he calmed, the house settling back down from the shock, “You must have been sad.”

 

Loki’s hands released his shoulders and when Peter looked at him, he saw a look in Loki’s eyes he had never seen. A bit of confusion but also…understanding. Kindness...He looked terribly solemn. Loki glanced at the wall away from Peter and then looked back at him, shaking his head, “You are quite possibly the oddest child I have ever come in contact with…the most naïve.”

 

Peter laughed slightly, but then sniffled, “I’ve heard that before.”

 

Loki studied him a moment before he explained, “The memory was not meant for your eyes…but this world is strange in its connections…and that one is one of my most angering, so close to the surface, _always_. But it motivates. You should not pity me, it does not hurt.”

 

_You’re lying, Mister Loki._

_I felt it…I felt all of it._

But Peter only nodded his head in understanding, shivering under his gaze. He knew he would need to go back into the mirror again and see Gamora. Not so much out of fondness, but because he couldn’t be like Loki. He couldn’t be locked away forever…a stolen relic.

 

He wanted to go back to his father, and the mirror and Gamora were possibly his only viable options.

 

…

 

Rocket, Nebula, and Thor were tasked with retrieving Squidward’s body from space.

 

Seeing them off was a short affair several yards away from the palace in the scarred land of their battlefield. None of the three travelers seemed bothered by the mission in the slightest and Rocket, in fact, seemed the most excited to go. Tony supposed, if he could be trusted to keep himself alive, he could have gone on his own. But, he couldn’t, hence the two babysitters that were also familiar with space travel.

 

They walked out in a hoard, to watch them leave and Rocket and Nebula didn’t hesitate to walk up the ship’s ramp inside. Thor, to Tony’s surprise, turned to face him before entering, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling softly, “We will return soon, Stark. I expect you to keep everyone in high spirits.”

 

Tony could have laughed at that. He was walking on eggshells around himself and the others. He was struggling to keep his morale high enough not to down several shots and maybe some pills in the process. Tony could barely understand Thor’s mind…how he could remain optimistic when half of the fucking universe was gone.

 

Maybe Thor could sense his reservation because Thor glanced back at their other friends before speaking quietly, “The pain is temporary. The sun will shine on us again.”

 

“Very philosophical of you,” Tony forced a smirk, but it was so hard to be himself.

 

Thor’s own smile was sad, and maybe Tony had said something wrong, but Thor was so good at hiding his pain. So much better than Tony who was still hungover and considering when he had time to get black out drunk once more. The blond shrugged, “A brave man said it and I believe it. Even if it seems a bit bleak now, I believe that sun is soon to come, especially with you here.”

 

Tony felt his stomach drop and Thor continued, “Take care of yourself until we return.”

 

And with that, Thor walked up the ramp and Tony moved away, going to stand with the others. They watched the group depart, and Tony felt a heaviness settle over him. Like exhaustion. He looked at Bruce, who he realized was staring at him intently. He knew what they had to do…what Bruce wanted to do and what the others expected but it was so much.

 

But in a murderous universe, there was the need for murderous weapons, and it had been so long since Tony had tried to build one of those.

 

…

 

The boy looked like an infant in his sleep.

 

Peter had drifted into unconsciousness some time ago, lying in front of the fireplace and Loki had kept his distance, but the boy really was something frightening. Loki looked down at him, the fire flickering off of his face and the god just couldn’t wrap his head around it. A mortal that felt so much, had such a capacity for such emotion, and yet managed to keep himself together enough to survive.

 

And still had enough room to care about the suffering of others.

 

It was stupid, and admirable. Loki was somewhat envious, but he would never voice that thought aloud. Peter cared for others in a way Loki could never imagine caring and it was kind of angering to him, because he didn’t want Peter to care for him. In fact, he had been fully prepared to hold distain against the child from the moment he had appeared in the pocket, but the boy had managed to crawl in somehow.

 

Loki was not fond, he would not say that, but he wanted the boy to survive.

 

He didn’t know if surviving was on the table anymore. If getting the boy home was an option. Loki had resigned to living as a prisoner, mostly for the sake of self-preservation, but the boy was going to get himself dragged out by Thanos if Loki didn’t intervene. The mirror might have been their only way out at that point, the only way to get the child out of the Soul Stone. Loki knew, inwardly, that it was a stupid notion. Completely idiotic, but what could he say?

 

He was invested, and that was sort of – no – it was wholly irritating.

 

Peter just looked so young…too young to have been murdered. Loki had done some terrible things, but the murder of children had always been rather different to him. And to set the child aside, in a state of awareness, just for him to suffer his grief endlessly…it was heinous. While all other souls floated about unaware, this particular child was left to know he was without his father, to know he had no true body in the physical world, to know what was to be missed.

 

Loki muttered quietly, aimed towards a Thanos that would not hear, “I have done awful things…but you have been cruel.”

 

The boy shifted just slightly, and Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew what would have to be done…what he would have to do to help the child, but he just didn’t want to. Peter’s words were ringing true: he was a coward. Hiding and not fighting. Just hoping for it to pass and to never be brought to use. But they were simply sitting around waiting to be turned into Thanos’ soldiers or blackmail and Loki was becoming more anxious over that inevitable truth.

 

Loki moved away from Peter and the thick wool blanket the boy had wrapped himself in. He was simply a lump on the floor and the god sat down on the sofa across the room.

 

He wondered when he had dwindled to such emotional tendencies, and he despised himself for it.

 

It almost always brought death.


	4. Alice in Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Child. It is alright.’
> 
> Mirrors shouldn’t have spoken, and this one sounded oddly like Karen. Comforting and familiar and Peter whispered quietly, “Here…Mister Loki…it’s here.”
> 
> Loki looked confused, maybe even a bit startled at the glassy look that had suddenly overcome Peter’s expression. He reached out and gripped Peter’s upper arm, but Peter reached back just as suddenly, yanking the man forward with him. Loki let out a startled cry as the two of them stumbled inside, falling into a mass of ice and plummeting down, down, down…
> 
> Down the rabbit hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four for you guys! Smashed my first final today, so thought I'd reward myself with some writing haha! Tomorrow is just creative writing, and all I need to do is turn in my portfolio for that so it should be an easy day. All is well here, and I hope things are going great for all of you as well in exam season/expensive gift buying season *cries over empty bank account*. I love you all so, so much, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! ❤

When Tony had imagined the princess, he had thought of someone like T’Challa. Stiff, uninterested in most of his talk and machinery work, just overall a boring kind of guy with no personality. After all, if she was the princess of such a high society and the sister of the king, they shared the same boring DNA. And Tony had been completely ready to shut her down the moment he and Bruce entered her lab to begin working on their ‘murder’ weapon.

 

However, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the princess – Shuri, as she insisted on being called after jokingly threatening to decapitate Bruce – was not boring at all. In fact, the girl, for being so young was absolutely brilliant. It sort of ignited something like pain inside of Tony, reminding him so much Peter. So young and intelligent, so ready to build anything and everything under the sun and push society to new advancements.

 

In an odd way, she intimidated Tony. Because she too was going through her own grief and the stresses of the people around her insisting she needed to step up as the rightful heir to the throne, since her brother’s absence. But she had a steady head on her shoulders, quite like Thor, and Tony wondered…how he could let himself fall into such a dark abyss when even a teenager was managing to hold herself together better than he was.

 

And she had the weight of an entire country resting on her shoulders. What did Tony have? Maybe the universe, oddly since everyone seemed to think he was there to save the day, but in all actuality, he was just floating along, pretending he wasn’t where he was. He admired her, he really did, and she still managed to smile at him and Bruce even when they were invading her lab and touching all of her objects.

 

Their technology was impressive. Absolutely amazing was a better word, and Bruce was in hog heaven. Tony supposed he would be too, if the circumstances were different. If they weren’t trying to build a Thanos killing machine. If his son wasn’t on the line between life and death. Tony wholeheartedly believed it would have been a fun experience.

 

The princess oversaw most of their work. Corrected several mistakes Tony made, mostly due to exhaustion. They barely left the lab in the following three days, which they didn’t really need to. Palace employees brought food and coffee, Shuri would check in occasionally to make sure they weren’t blowing things up.

 

Things gradually came together.

 

And in that, _The Red Queen_  was born.

 

As far as weapons go, it wasn’t the most murderous one Tony had built. The man was tempted to drop a nuke on Thanos’ head, but their luck, he could use the gauntlet to turn it into a swarm of butterflies or snow flurries. Instead they put their focus on removing the source of the problem: the gauntlet.

 

They had tried, on titan, to remove the glove physically. To pry it off, and Peter had been so close, he really had, and Tony wished he could go back and change everything. Restrain Quill in some way, but he found it hard to be terribly angry at the guy, because Tony didn’t know how he would react if he had just found out Pepper had been murdered and the guy who did it was right in front of him. Actually, he did…he had experienced it with Killian all those years ago.

 

But it was the third day, second hour, thirteenth minute of Thor, Nebula, and Rocket being gone that Tony was woken by a hand slamming down on the table beside his head. He startled awake, and Shuri was there, smiling brightly with Bruce standing nearby. Tony blinked, hard, looking around, noticing _The Red Queen_  was gone, and not in front of him where he had left it to work on.

 

“Wait – what – what the hell?”

 

“Calm down,” Shuri laughed, lightly and Tony continuously wondered if it was just instilled in youth to recover so quickly from trauma, “We moved it outside. We’re about to run a test, come on! Up!”

 

She turned and practically bounded away excitedly. Bruce stepped forward, grimacing slightly as he explained, “I tried to convince her to let you sleep a few more hours but…she was insistent.”

 

“Well, considering she’s the princess we shouldn’t keep her waiting,” Tony grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he went on hoarsely, “She might throw us in the brig or something, right? Can’t royalty do that?”

 

Bruce made a disbelieving face, “I don’t think it works that way.”

 

Tony didn’t reply and instead glanced at his watch. He had gotten three hours of sleep anyway, and that in itself was a feat. He grabbed his cold coffee from the table, downing what was left before he stood from the stool he was sitting on at the work bench and gestured for Bruce to lead the way. Bruce paused, hesitant, and Tony could have sighed in irritation. The past three days had been like stomping on nails with the scientist and Tony was honestly just…tired.

 

“I think you should be getting more rest,” Bruce stated, and Tony was actually surprised, because it was the most straight forward his friend had been the entire time they were working together. It was sort of refreshing, in an irritating kind of way. Tony smirked only slightly, exhausted as Bruce went on, “I mean, you only just got stabbed a few weeks ago…I know the stitches came out already, but you need to rest…you’re depleted both emotionally and physically – “

 

Tony held up a hand, “Listen, Brucie. I’ve been through much worse, trust me. If my body can handle years of abuse, it can handle a few more days until we get this shit under control, alright?”

 

Bruce looked…unconvinced.

 

So, instead of continuing the conversation and irritating Tony to the edge of a cliff, Tony reached out, grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and turned him in the direction of the lab door. Bruce took the hint, thankfully and began to move, sighing deeply as the two of them left. Eventually Tony released his shoulders and allowed him to lead them from the palace. They took two elevators, door after door before emerging outside.

 

It was thickly humid, rain having just fallen a few hours before. Tony felt like he was smothering, under it, a haze hovering just above the ground as they headed towards the small mass of people that had gathered in the distance. Tony could already see Steve, Nat, Rhodey, and Clint waiting for them, along with Shuri. As promised, _The Red Queen_  was there, and several feet away was a lone tree, framed by a nearby lake.

 

_The Red Queen_  looked like a glove of sorts. A mock gauntlet, and it made Tony nauseous to look at its similarities with Thanos’ own weapon. But the innerworkings were much different, an intricate web of blades and what was surely to produce gore beyond a reasonable standard. The weapon was made to maim, not kill, and it felt like everything Tony had ever been taught about weapons was wrong. This was wrong. But Thanos was a special case, and Tony truly didn’t care if he died in agony.

 

Shuri threw out a hand once they were in earshot, “There they are! I could have sworn they were right behind me, what took you two so long?”

 

“You’ll have to forgive us, Princess,” Tony answered, “Banner was just being a mother-hen.”

 

Bruce scoffed, but said nothing. Tony looked at the other members of their team. Steve was eyeing him oddly, in the same worried manner that Bruce had done. Rhodey was more interested in the weapon than he was Tony and Clint and Nat had unreadable expressions, per usual. Shuri was practically vibrating with energy though, and just as she opened her mouth, Rhodey interrupted, “So…what exactly does this thing _do_? You’ll have to forgive me for not being super impressed but honestly, it just looks like a knock off of Thanos’ death-glove.”

 

“ _That_ , Rhodey,” Tony pointed at the large mass of metal, “Is worth more than your War Machine suit. Especially more than that shit, Iron Patriot. It’s what I like to call _The Red Queen_  made with the specific task of amputation.”

 

Tony saw Steve’s eyes widen out of the corner of his eye, “You’re going to amputate Thanos’ arm?”

 

“Well…that’s the plan,” Tony shrugged, “Those don’t always turn out right, but I’m intending for this one to.”

 

Clint muttered quietly, “I was expecting something with a little more umph.”

 

“A little more…” Tony paused, trying not to get frustrated. It wasn’t that he expected them to appreciate the true brilliance of the weapon, but he had at least expected them to understand why it had to be done. Tony took a deep breath and continued, “Listen Barton…I know you missed the fight, but we had a lot of that so called ‘umph’ last time and it still didn’t do shit because Thanos had that damned gauntlet on his hand. This evens the playing field.”

 

Everyone eyed him, and Tony realized, maybe his voice was a bit strung. Tight and angry, but he hated stupid comments. Especially when he was so tired and sleep deprived. Even Barton looked kind of surprised by the sudden anger, and Tony thought it had been meant as a side comment, with the expectance of Tony’s snark, not his anguish. Clint held up a hand and replied, “Alright. Got it.”

 

Tony let out a puff of air, looking away towards Shuri. He opted for changing the subject, because that was much easier than being in an awkward quiet with some of the people closest to him. He held out a hand, “Alright Princess, let’s show them what we’ve got.”

 

Maybe she hadn’t sensed the awkward tension, because she turned on her heels, pulling the remote from the small bag she had around her waist. She held it up, grinning widely, the same smile that her brother had. Tony felt the sudden need to send a fruit basket to their mother, because she surely wasn’t handling the loss of her son well. And to see his face in her daughter’s smile had to be rough.

 

“If you would all turn your attention to the tree,” She waved her arm dramatically, like a show host. She reached out and put a hand on Rhodey’s shoulder, before pulling him back gently, “You’ll want to step away for a moment.”

 

Rhodey did so, scurrying to stand beside the others, _if_ Rhodey scurried. Shuri looked kind of like a mad woman then, and Tony wanted to laugh. She held up the remote, pressing several buttons as a blue screen appeared, holographic and blurring in the slight fog. A few moments passed as she typed in the trajectory codes, but the moment she finished, a whooshing sound filled the air. _The Red Queen_  hummed to life, rising, like it had a mind of its own.

 

Tony looked at Bruce who looked proud. Always proud of creations, even how mundane, and the thing took a breath of life like a newborn child, entering the world with its purpose in hand. It jolted, before whirling and flying towards the tree in the distance. It practically swallowed up the tiny branches, making it look like a giant hand coming out of the ground, then without a moment wasted, it ripped the upper portion of the tree from the trunk…

 

In retrospect, Tony had seen much cooler things. But with the thought of Thanos’ hand being inside _The Red Queen_ , it was…elevating. Which might have been sick on his part, but the anger had been slowly replacing the despair. He didn’t care, he wanted Thanos dead and he hoped he would get to watch him bleed out across whatever God forsaken planet he had decided to rest on.

 

Nat whistled, “Jeffery Dahmer would’ve loved that one.”

 

“Everyone would love this one!” Shuri exclaimed, grinning, though it only faltered slightly with a second thought, “Well, I suppose it’ll only be useful for Thanos, since it was built to his scale. Not that I want to build things to maim peoples’ arms, but it’s fascinating. To get the blades to such an angle – it is just awesome.”

 

Awesome. Tony grimaced, looking down at the ground. The dirt that was still charred. Steve stepped forward, his usual ‘leader’ self, shoulders tall as he spoke, “It gives us a good shot. Bruce…Tony…It’s great. Thank you.”

 

Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes. Steve seemed to hesitate, when their gazes met. Like he needed to say something, but couldn’t quite spit it out. If things had been different, Tony maybe would have asked. But he didn’t, because that door had been closed quite some time ago. Back when things between them were easier. Back when they could hear one another.

 

Unfortunately, Steve must not have gotten the memo, because he questioned, “Tony…can I speak to you a moment.”

 

“I don’t know,” Tony replied, “Are you gonna cut me down with an axe? That beard makes you look like a lumber jack.”

 

Steve didn’t look even the slightest bit amused and their friends looked amongst themselves. Nat nodded her head sideways and Tony wanted to scold her as everyone moved away from the two of them, even Shuri. It was angering, in a way, as if he had been ambushed. He was so tired, he didn’t understand why no one else could understand that he wasn’t there to make friends, he was there to get his kid back. It was as simple as that. The time for comfort was long gone, it had left when Steve had chosen to hide the true nature of Maria and Howard’s deaths.

 

But truthfully, it was so long gone…Tony didn’t care.

 

Steve approached when the others were out of earshot and Tony put his hands in his pockets, trying to make himself relax. He questioned, “Alright, Rogers, what is this? A personal job well done for my machine or what?”

 

“I just…” Steve paused, taking a deep breath, “I just wanted to…okay yeah, I admit that was part of it, well, it was how it was going to start off.”

 

 Tony nodded, “’Course it was. And what was it going to be followed with?”

 

Steve’s eyes found Tony’s brown ones and they softened. Tony fought the urge to look away, but instead tilted his head and inhaled with annoyance. He shrugged his shoulders and ordered, “Don’t look at me like a lost puppy. I’m not some dog walking along the side of the road with bones sticking out, I’m _good_. So what the hell did you want to talk to me about?”

 

“I wanted…” Steve paused, “I wanted to ask how you were doing.”

 

Tony barked out a laugh of disbelief. Really, it was kind of funny, but the look on Steve’s face said it wasn’t. He noticed a few of their friends further away had turned their heads at the sound and Tony just shrugged, because whatever. They could know. They could know how absolutely done he felt with the whole thing. Truthfully the intention had been this: show them the weapon, then go back and find a hiding place until Thor, Rocket, and Nebula returned. There had been no plans to have a heart to heart with ex-friends.

 

Tony was too _tired_.

 

“I’m wavering between exhaustion and black out drunk temptations,” Tony answered truthfully, because that was the way to go, and it was kind of funny to him: not Steve, because Steve looked horrified when Tony continued, “But the raccoon is gone, and he was sort of my only drinking buddy. Unfortunately, Barton is being irritatingly stoic about his children disappearing and forced participation can have adverse effects.”

 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “Tony…”

 

“Don’t,” Tony snapped suddenly, patience gone when Steve’s ‘chastising’ voice surfaced, “Alright, just don’t, Spangle. Or Emo-Spangle, Homeless-Spangle, whatever the hell you are now-days. You, the Accords, and the Winter Soldier are the least of my worries right now. If you’d like, after I get my kid back, I’ll set up a meeting to throw staplers at your head with Ross, but until then…Fuck off.”

 

Steve stared, mouth agape, and Tony didn’t give him the chance to respond before he turned and started to make his way back towards the palace. Honestly, it wasn’t his finest moment. But he couldn’t find the energy to speak to Steve, especially with the memories of Siberia coaxing to the surface making him want to have a panic attack right there. Remembering having a shield shoved into his chest, and going home bruised and bloody, just for Peter to see his wounds and begin his open crusade.

 

If Tony could go back, he would have done everything in his power to stop it. Would have forced his way to cure Peter’s mutation, turn him back to the way he was before. But even then, Peter would have disappeared in the Snap. He just would have been across the Universe when it happened, and Tony couldn’t decide if that was worse or better. Peter might have been alone, when he died, and that was certainly worse. But the selfish part of Tony wanted the look in Peter’s eyes gone from memory and the sound of his terrified voice begging Tony to save him.

 

His shoes sounded odd against the wet ground going back, wanting to get out of the smothering air. Away from the eyes of his ‘friends’. When in actuality, he felt Rhodey and Bruce were his only friends. Maybe even the princess now. He ignored the stares of several palace employees as he rushed to his room. He was wrong, inside. Everything was off its axis, and had been for some time. Since Peter had died. Maybe before then, even when Peter was small.

 

He was just…pissed off. Old wounds were piling on top of them and he had figured out that he hadn’t really dealt with Siberia, he had ignored it. Let it be pushed on the back burner, but he hadn’t been lying when he said it wasn’t the top priority at that point. Peter was and always would be, until the day Tony got him back. Until Thanos was dead, his arm ripped clean off by _The Red Queen_. Tony couldn’t think of anything else, he couldn’t forgive himself, and he wanted his son back, because Peter was his son and Thanos had taken him. Had taken him like he had any right at all to the teenager and any right to decide what happened to him.

 

Tony wanted his son back. He wanted him home.

 

The man hurried down the hallway, and into his suite. When he entered, he didn’t immediately notice the person sitting on his bed because he had whirled around and pressed his forehead to the door, taking in calming, deep breaths, trying to stop his anger and panic all in those gasps. Drawing as much air into his lungs as he could manage and then letting it out slowly because that was what had to be done.

 

“Rough presentation?”

 

The voice was soft…familiar…like something sent right out of heaven. Tony whirled around and sitting on the bed, legs crossed calmly and hands folded in her lap…was Pepper. Her eyes didn’t seem terribly happy to see him, but her mouth held a small smile. It was sad, but it was still there and Tony almost gasped, because she was the last person he was expecting to see in Wakanda. He took her in, his mouth open, but then it closed and he couldn’t find words.

 

She stood slowly from the bed, smoothing out her skirt, “Don’t worry, you’re not dreaming…or hallucinating. My plane just landed an hour ago and I was shown to your room…Rhodey managed to get me a flight in.”

 

Tony croaked, feeling weak all of a sudden, “W…Why didn’t you call? Say you were coming?”

 

“Well, last time we spoke on the phone…I wanted to hurt you,” Pepper replied honestly, approaching him, “And then, Rhodey was worried you would try to stop me from coming…but he felt like I needed to and I did too, even if I was angry about our conversation…I know you didn’t mean to be the way you were…you were hurting but…”

 

She trailed off, and she was close enough for Tony to smell her perfume. Tony gulped down the lump in his throat and finished for her, “But you were hurting too, and I was an ass.”

 

“Not an ass,” Pepper corrected, “You were being a father who just lost his son.”

 

Her eyes were teary, but so, so strong, and Tony’s most certainly were not. His shoulders sagged, and everything he had been holding in through the pain pills and liquor suddenly crashed into his chest without much remorse. He felt all of it, and he shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly to hide the tears that were forming viciously. She cupped his cheeks, hands soft, so soft.

 

“I’m here,” Is all she said.

 

Tony knew she was there and gracelessly came forward, burying his face in her neck. She smelled like home, the palace not taking hold yet. She felt like everything was okay, just having his arms around her familiar frame. She held him back, not as fiercely, but cradled his head and Tony didn’t realize he had longed for someone to hold him. That he had just wanted to cry. But Pepper had been one of the only people he had been capable of doing so with for so very long.

 

“He’s gone,” Tony murmured.

 

“Only for now,” Pepper reassured, and Tony didn’t know how she could be so positive when their whole world had turned to shit, because Peter had been their entire world, “With everyone together…I know he’ll be back. You boys…you two always find your way back to me.”

 

Tony didn’t know if that was true, because if Peter didn’t come back, Tony couldn’t either.

 

…

 

“I do not understand why she must fall in the rabbit hole.”

 

Loki’s voice sounded frustrated and Peter looked up from his book, brows tugged together from where he sat in front of the fire place on the floor, wrapped tightly in several layers of blankets to fight the cold that was becoming worse. Loki was across the sitting room, on one of the sofas with an irritated expression as he looked at Peter through narrowed eyes.

 

“Huh?” Peter questioned.

 

“You said the girl falls down the rabbit hole,” Loki snapped, “Is she stupid?”

 

Peter’s jaw dropped in surprised at the question. Honestly, he didn’t think anyone had ever questioned him as to why Alice fell down the rabbit hole. He hadn’t ever questioned it himself either, she just had. Peter swallowed, shutting the book before he set it aside. He shrugged his shoulders, “I-I dunno, Mister Loki. She just…she follows the rabbit and she falls in, that’s all I know…Wait, why does that make her stupid?”

 

Loki scoffed and looked away, muttering so low Peter could barely hear, “Only an idiot would fall down a rabbit hole.”

 

Peter laughed, but covered his mouth when Loki narrowed his eyes in genuine irritation because obviously he was much more invested in this story than Peter was. Loki continued, voice a bit louder this time, “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you find her amusing. Her curiosity is surely going to get her killed and you seem to enjoy endangering yourself with it.”

 

Poking out his lower lip in a slight pout, Peter argued, “Oh that’s not the same.”

 

“Oh, it really is,” Loki replied, “I’m beginning to believe these Earth stories are the reason why children where you’re from have a short life expectancy. You’re raised to believe such actions are noble, when they’re really just poorly thought out escapades. Then again…it sounds tremendously like growing up with Thor and his brash behavior. Maybe it isn’t only reserved for your kind.”

 

Peter grimaced and looked down, tilting his head slightly, “C’mon, Mister Loki, you can’t say nothing interesting has ever caught your attention.”

 

Suddenly, Peter eyes lit up and he exclaimed, “I bet you and Thor have been on so many cool missions! Did you help him fight bad guys? Using all your cool illusions and stuff? What _can_ you do exactly? I bet it comes in handy when you’re in the middle of battle.”

 

Loki stared a few moments, a look of…well, Peter didn’t really know what the look was. But it was like he was studying Peter too closely. Like a bug under a microscope and Peter tried his best to ignore the way his anxiety spiked, wondering if maybe he had said something wrong. Loki ran a hand through his long hair and explained, “Most of our ‘missions’ weren’t missions at all, they were Thor’s ego trying to get us killed. But yes, my illusions have come into play and did help me save Thor on a number of occasions, though he’d never admit it. His head is much too large.”

 

Peter smiled, “Oh well, I bet there was some awesome stuff that happened.”

 

Silence overwhelmed them, and Loki looked away. Peter worried a moment he was sad, but his gaze drifted into that of fondness. Peter relaxed when seeing that, and suddenly it felt a bit more like talking to a friend, not someone who could potentially murder him if he stepped out of line. Loki replied softly, “Yes, I would say ‘awesome’ stuff happened, as you describe it. I did enjoy turning Thor into a horse so that I could escape a group of Dark Elves when we were much younger. I waited a few days to turn him back, as punishment for getting us into that situation in the first place.”

 

Peter cackled, and Loki looked startled by the sudden sound. Peter held his abdomen, a fit of laughter taking over as he questioned, “You turned Thor into a horse!?”

 

“I did,” Loki answered truthfully, “I’ve turned him into many things.”

 

The boy took a few moments to calm down, laughter slowly dying off and Peter felt like Loki was eyeing him curiously. Like he was something weird, from outer space, not like Loki himself was a god who turned other gods into horses. Peter eventually stopped completely, grinning widely at the man on the sofa, “You’re so cool.”

 

“Cool,” Loki echoed.

 

“Yeah, like, awesome,” Peter replied, “Amazing! Or something like that.”

 

Loki hummed, and Peter turned his attention back to the book. The cover had an image of Alice, falling headfirst into the rabbit hole. Her face was shocked, cartoonish, but still there and real and Peter bit his lower lip, his amazement turning in dread because he was just sitting there. Just sitting still and reading a children’s story. When he was supposed to be looking for a way into the mirror and extend that to a way home. But Loki had stopped avoiding him, and Peter was worried that expressing his plan would result in some kind of argument.

 

It was just…he was wasting time. It felt like the nights he wouldn’t be allowed to patrol and he thought of all the people he could have been helping but he was instead stuck in the penthouse. His heart fluttered suddenly with that familiar fear of doing nothing for too long and he looked at Loki with wide, brown eyes. Loki, in turned, stared at him perplexed, clearly wanting to question what was wrong, but maybe not knowing how.

 

The god instead said, “You look like you’re about to say something unnerving.”

 

Peter nodded, “Well…I think it’s something you won’t like very much.”

 

Loki didn’t reply so instead Peter provided in a softer tone, “Mister Loki, I-I think…well, you’re not gonna think it’s a good idea and I hope…I just hope you’re not gonna be mad at me when I suggest it and maybe you can even help me! I’d really appreciate the help honestly – “

 

“Stop rambling.”

 

“Right, sorry,” Peter amended, “I just…I need to go back into the mirror.”

 

Loki’s face didn’t react, and Peter didn’t know if that was more frightening than if he had looked angry or upset. The revelation itself wasn’t much, but it was enough, and Peter’s hands tightened together waiting for the god’s response. It felt almost like talking to his father…like trying to convince him to go patrolling, but Loki’s methods and drive were different. Peter’s father loved him, while Loki was looking for self-preservation. This was glass, and Peter was a stone.

 

Always, always the stone.

 

He was destructive in that way, to the adults in his life, and he knew it very well. It was guilt ridden, because he was the one who hurt them. With his death. With his impatience to grow up. Fighting tooth and nail to be Spider-Man, and where had it gotten him? Nowhere awesome, clearly, but he just wanted Loki to understand that this was how it needed to be. This was what he needed, so desperately.

 

“Why do you insist…” Loki muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “On doing such ignorant things?”

 

Peter bit his lip, “Because I can’t just sit here…This could be our only way out.”

 

“And if Thanos is on the other side,” Loki snapped, and ah, there he was, reacting how Peter recognized. Short tempered and eyes burning with frustration, “Do you have any idea what Thanos could do to you?”

 

Peter stood from his place on the floor and held out his hands, “And do you have any idea what we could do to Thanos? I mean…it’s just a theory…but what if the girl – Gamora – knows something? What if we can hurt Thanos here and maybe weaken him out there so my dad and the others at least have a fighting chance?”

 

Loki was quiet again. Studying Peter, the anomaly, the thing that didn’t fit into his equation. Peter tended to be that…he had been that for his father when he was four-years-old. A piece in the puzzle of life that never should have been born, created. Peter wondered back, if his mother had thought that when she had heard him take his first deep inhale and let out a wail, screaming in a hospital room somewhere in Queens, coming to life. If his step-father had thought that when he held him the first time, knowing very well he wasn’t his biological son but choosing to claim him as a Parker anyway.

 

Peter had been this _thing_ in every life he had come in contact with, and honestly, it was exhausting.

 

“He could do away with you, you know?” Loki questioned, “If we go to the other side to find that girl, he could be waiting…He will not hesitate to cut you down, and if he doesn’t he will almost certainly separate us. Are you prepared to be on your own? Alone?”

 

Peter took in a shaky breath, “What other choice do we have? This is our only way home.”

 

Loki sighed, shoulders going lax as he stood from the sofa. He moved towards the door, feet moving slowly with precision as he stared at the ground, hands folding in front of himself like a politician in a debate. Like Peter was a simple roadblock. But when Loki looked at him, Peter saw his father’s expression, the one that called Peter dumb but brilliant because self-sacrificial behaviors were a character trait all on their own, and Peter would be a whole different human without it.

 

Loki gestured out the door into the hall, “Lead the way, Spider.”

 

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised, but really, he was. The last thing he had expected was compliance from Loki, and happiness swelled in his belly. He knew he should have been overcome with anxiety, due to Loki’s warnings, but that wasn’t the case. Instead he bounded towards the god, and he exclaimed, “Thank you!”

 

It sounded more like Loki had agreed to let him go on a field trip, not a potentially life-threatening meeting. But Peter hurried down the hallway, continuously glancing back at Loki who was in no rush. He made it to the mirror first, greeted by the familiar hum and slowly, but surely, Loki eventually appeared beside him. Peter stared at their reflection, contemplating, and he noticed how tired he looked, but it had been so hard to sleep.

 

It had been so cold.

 

“Mister Loki…” Peter started, looking at Loki’s eyes in the reflection, “How do I…how do I know it’s going to bring us back to Gamora?”

 

“Well, I supposed I had trusted you to have figured that out,” Loki replied, sounding a tad annoyed at the revelation, “You’re the one who has taken to playing with this thing. I assumed you knew how to work it.”

 

Peter wanted to argue that Loki was the god, and was more familiar with ‘magic’ than Peter was. But he didn’t because he had only just convinced him to come along for the ride and getting into an argument right there at the edge wasn’t exactly wise. Peter looked over and up at him, eyes wide and concerned as Loki turned to look down at him. Peter turned away immediately looking back at the silver framed mirror, hands shaking.

 

“Okay…okay,” Peter rolled his shoulders. How hard could it be? Maybe he just needed to tell the mirror where to bring him. It couldn’t be much more difficult than that, but it felt like one of the hardest concepts in the world, ripping away from science as he muttered, “I wish Doctor Strange was here.”

 

Loki scoffed, “As if that party trick would know what to do.”

 

_He knows more than me,_ Peter thought.

 

He reached out his hand, touching the frame, and the moment he did, an odd shock was sent up his body. Like ice, and falling into a river in the middle of January. Peter shivered, blinking at himself, seeing spots form in his vision as he did so. The world twisted and turned and Peter no longer felt like he was inside of himself, but on the outside. Like the humming had become the only thing in the universe, and Peter’s reflection looked different.

 

Silver clipped across his eyes, briefly, and Peter blinked in shock.

 

_‘Child. It is alright.’_

Mirrors shouldn’t have spoken, and this one sounded oddly like Karen. Comforting and familiar and Peter whispered quietly, “Here…Mister Loki…it’s here.”

 

Loki looked confused, maybe even a bit startled at the glassy look that had suddenly overcome Peter’s expression. He reached out and gripped Peter’s upper arm, but Peter reached back just as suddenly, yanking the man forward with him. Loki let out a startled cry as the two of them stumbled inside, falling into a mass of ice and plummeting _down, down, down_ …

 

_Down the rabbit hole._

But the blue transformed into orange just as soon as Peter had pulled them through, appearing back onto the surface that Peter recognized. He blinked several times, trying to adjust to the change of scenery, and the harsh hue. It was so much brighter than the house, and he stumbled, the water echoing like droplets. Something grabbed his arms and held him upright and he turned to see Loki there, looking slightly horrified by their sudden trip.

 

“A little warning would have sufficed,” Loki snapped.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, “I’m sorry…I dunno why I did that – “

 

Suddenly he was cut off. Cut off by sobbing.

 

Both Peter and Loki whirled around, and Peter saw the same structure as before. Thankfully, there wasn’t the large, intimidating shadow of Thanos, but instead sitting on the steps was Gamora’s tiny form. She had her knees pulled in close and her shoulders were shaking, the source of the crying. Peter looked at Loki only a split second before he turned back to Gamora and surged forward. Loki attempted to stop him, but Peter wouldn’t allow it, rushing to the child.

 

“Gamora!” Peter called, and her head snapped up to look at him. Peter slid to a stop on his knees in front of her, his eyes wide with concern. He could hear Loki rushing to catch up and the god stopped behind him, catching Gamora’s attention. She eyed Loki warily, face splotched with tears until she returned her attention to Peter who questioned, “A-Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

 

Gamora’s lip trembled, “No…but he is always hurting someone.”

 

Her eyes flared with something and she pointed behind Peter towards Loki, asking harshly, “Why did you bring him?”

 

“Loki?” Peter’s voice cracked in surprise at the tiny girl’s anger. He looked back at Loki who had chosen to glare darkly at the little girl, making Peter’s heart skip a beat. The last thing he needed was a knock-down-drag-out between the two of them. He whirled, holding up his hands, “No…No Loki just came to help. He wants to help us.”

 

Her expression changed and she ground out through gritted teeth, “Do you not know what he is? He is the Mischievous One…the one that will do whatever is needed to win, not matter who it hurts. That is why Thanos has cast him aside, for later use. He knows the Mischievous One can be manipulated to do his bidding…He has done it before.”

 

Peter’s mouth snapped shut. One last look at Loki’s expression and he saw a glimpse of shame there. Like Loki couldn’t argue, but the god managed to hiss, “Self-preservation isn’t a crime, little girl.”

 

“It is when people die as a result,” She replied sharply.

 

“Alright, alright, stop,” Peter pacified, “Stop fighting…we’re here to work together. And Loki is here to help us, Gamora. He isn’t going to work for Thanos…he isn’t like that anymore. Thanos just…must not know that, so technically speaking he wasted his time with Loki and me.”

 

Something like concern hit her square in the face, “He did not take you to corrupt you, Peter.”

 

Peter’s brows tugged downward, his mouth doing the same as his head snapped back a bit in surprise. It made little sense to him, and really he had just been making assumptions as to why he was with Loki. When Gamora had said it…well, he had thought the same would apply to him…to be used as a weapon…to harm people. Saved for later.

 

She grimaced, “Oh…Peter…He knows your heart cannot be corrupted with the promise of survival…you made that clear when you stood in front of your father intending to take his death blow – “

 

“How do you know that?” Peter questioned but she ignored him. She must have learned more while Peter was gone…she must have questioned Thanos himself or gotten the answers in some other way, and it was sort of frightening to think she could do that.

 

“Anthony Stark is the only human that frightens him,” Gamora explained, sniffling slightly as she removed some of her left-over tears with the heel of her hand, “He has knowledge that most others do not possess…making him a threat.”

 

Silence.

 

“You’re Thanos’ failsafe, Peter. Something to control…Thanos knows your father would never hurt you. He believes you to be the only thing that can hurt Stark.”

 

“Failsafe,” Peter repeated weakly, “I’m a failsafe?”

 

“And a curiosity,” Gamora hummed, nodding in confirmation, “A child that would die so willingly for his father is…abnormal in Thanos’ eyes. I think such love confuses him…and he seeks it for himself by taking it from others.”

 

Peter felt his lip begin to tremble. He ducked his head slightly, chest tightening as his face contorted against his will, making him verge on uncontrollable tears. He didn’t understand why loving his father so much was punishable. Why either he or his father had to be hurt. It wasn’t wholly fair and made his insides feel like they were on fire. His shoulders shook, and when he looked up again, his vision was clouded with tears.

 

Peter shook his head, “Everything hurts.”

 

“The soul is amplified here,” Gamora leaned forward and cupped his cheeks with tiny hands, “Which means yours…and all of your love for others, for being alive, is bared. You feel so much.”

 

He shut his eyes.

 

“Is that why you’ve come back?” Her voice asked, “To question what I’ve learned?”

 

Peter was about to respond, but Loki broke sharply through the silence, as if he knew Peter could hardly find the words needed to speak or explain anything, “No. We came with a specific question in mind…The boy says the first time he came here Thanos had appeared. Which means he is using the gauntlet to travel through the physical and soul realms.”

 

Loki sighed, “Does that mean that Thanos can be physically harmed here?”

 

Peter opened his eyes as Gamora’s hands pulled away from his teary face. She was staring up at Loki behind him. There was still that glint of distrust, but Peter hoped she would answer. She shifted on the step, looking down and nodding her head, but then hesitating, “Well…yes and no. The thing is…if you were to strike Thanos here, it would not kill him in the physical world. But, it would weaken him significantly. Like I said, souls are bare here. And when the soul is marred, so is the person.”

 

Something like light slammed into Peter, “But we could weaken him? Maybe not kill him, but tire him out enough for someone in the physical world to have a chance at killing him?”

 

“It’s…possible,” Gamora replied.

 

Peter turned, nearly falling over to look up Loki from his place on the ground. Loki startled a bit at the sudden action, stepping back as Peter exclaimed, “That’s perfect! I-If we can somehow get in contact with my dad, we could set up a plan. And then…and then you and I could hurt Thanos here and they could kill him in the real world.”

 

Loki, to Peter’s disappointment, didn’t look excited…More so, he looked appalled, “And how do you suppose we get a message out of the Soul Stone, child? Don’t you think if I could have any contact out of our pocket, I would have by now?”

 

“Maybe you can’t,” Gamora replied, “But Peter can.”

 

Peter turned, confused, just as Loki was. Gamora elaborated, “Peter clearly has a heavy connection to the outside world. That’s how he got here, after all, isn’t it? He isn’t like you and I…He was murdered in the Snap. Ripped from existence, but his physical body never truly died, it simply ceased.”

 

The boy blinked and whispered, “The mirror.”

 

Gamora looked confused. Like she didn’t really know how a mirror played into all of it. Peter heard Loki comment from behind him, “So…use the mirror to open some kind of veil. It’s not entirely unheard of…but…”

 

Peter waited for the man to continue, but his face had turned grave. Disturbed. The god shook his head and glared at Gamora before Peter saw anger flare and the god went on, less calmly this time, “You’re a cruel little witch for suggesting it.”

 

“Suggesting what?” Peter voice cracked, “What? What’s wrong?”

 

Gamora commented monotone, “The Mischievous One knows dark magic and he knows it’s one of the only ways you will be successful in connecting with the outward world. Your strength alone won’t be enough…he will have to assist…but it will be painful for you.”

 

Peter expression turned to fear, “Painful?”

 

“You soul will be strained…” Loki looked even angrier, face growing pinker by each passing moment and Peter worried he might would try to hurt Gamora. She didn’t deserve to be hurt for being truthful, “It is not meant to stretch across realms. Coming back to your being here will feel like…agony. Being ripped from the real world all over again.”

 

Loki reached down and grabbed Peter’s arm, yanking him to his feet. Loki snapped towards Gamora, but the words were aimed at Peter, “We are done here. She is sadistic, just as her father is for even suggesting it.”

 

Peter stumbled as he was dragged away, and he looked back when Gamora stood on the steps, brows furrowed, and hands clenched into tiny fists at her sides. She stomped her foot and shouted, “He is not my father! And I am nothing like him! You know as well as I do this is the only way you will be able to contact anyone outside of your pocket and defeat Thanos, otherwise you will never be free and will continue to live as a coward!”

 

Loki continued walking, and Peter struggled to keep up with his long strides. Peter stopped, refusing to go any further and Loki looked back, and Peter was shocked by Loki’s anger. Things had been calm for some time in their pocket, but the insinuation had angered him and Peter…he didn’t quite understand. He tugged a bit at the grip on his arm and he tried his best to explain, “Mister Loki we…I know you don’t want to do it but…well, it sounds like our only shot.”

 

The god looked shocked, before he shook his head and the shock melted into stubbornness. He stepped towards Peter and Peter fought the urge to shrink back from the taller man. Loki spoke like a needle, “Listen to me. You do not understand the consequences.”

 

Peter felt like he was on that floating donut again, his father telling him he didn’t understand what he had done…that it was a one-way trip. Shit yeah, it had been, but he was there now, and consequences be damned. This was what it was. The way it had to be…and if a little agony was the only way he was going to get Thanos dead…so be it.

 

“I want to do it,” Peter tried to sound confident, “I want to do it, _please_.”

 

Loki started to shake his head, but Peter continued to insist, “I don’t care if it hurts. If it gets us out of here, it’s worth it, right?”

 

The god’s jaw set and he released Peter’s arm. He suddenly looked very tired, exhausted, and Peter noticed the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. Peter didn’t quite understand his reluctance, but it was a road block inevitably. Peter whispered quietly, yet reassuringly, “It’ll be fine…You’re awesome, remember?”

 

Loki shook his head…

 

“I fear you will regret this choice later, child.”

 

…

 

It was the middle of the night when Nat entered his room.

 

Tony had actually gotten several hours of sleep, with Pepper being there with him. It was the first time since the Snap he had gotten adequate rest, so he was less than happy when Nat shook his shoulder roughly, dragging him from such slumber. Tony sat up, snorting slightly in surprise as Pepper shifted next to him, gasping. Light poured in from the hallway, but otherwise all Tony could make out was a shadow, and he threw his fist out, only for it to be caught.

 

And of course, Nat hummed, less than impressed, “Nice hook.”

 

“You…bitch,” Tony breathed, holding his chest as Pepper’s nails dug into his forearm, “Warn a guy.”

 

Nat chuckled, despite just being called a bitch. Pepper smacked his shoulder for the comment though and Nat answered, “So sorry I didn’t send out a memo. We were all a bit surprised to be woken up, but Thor, Nebula, and the raccoon just got back with the alien’s body. Bruce has it in the fourth-floor laboratory in one of the princess’ bio-tanks.”

 

Tony rubbed his eyes, “What are they doing with him there?”

 

“What do you think?” She asked, “Defrosting him of course. He’s frozen solid.”

 

That was enough curiosity to push Tony out of bed. He kissed Pepper’s check quickly before putting on a decent amount of clothes and following the former-assassin from the room and up to the fourth floor. The palace was practically vacant besides a few workers milling about, and the silence was sort of unnerving for a place usually bustling with life. The moment they entered the lab, Tony knew it was going to be a shit-fest, just because the raccoon was standing on top of the bio-tank.

 

For lack of a better word, it looked nothing like something from Star Wars. In fact, it resembled Cho’s cradle more than anything. It was impressive, an invention that Tony assumed not many teen princesses created. Bruce was looming over it, with Shuri nearby, looking like she had just crawled from bed acutely aware of the world around her. Everyone else on the other hand looked less than glad to be awake, especially Clint.

 

“Ah, Stark,” Thor greeted, “I see you’ve managed to keep everyone alive while I was gone.”

 

Tony glanced at Steve and raised an eyebrow before muttering towards Thor, “Well, it was a struggle, really.”

 

He approached Bruce and Shuri, clapping his hands together as he questioned, “What we got?”

 

Bruce’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, amazement in every wrinkle on his face. He pulled up a blue hologram with several vitals appearing across the screen and Tony peered into the glass casket. Squidward was definitely in there, eyes closed, blue and grey and looking well…dead. Tony felt hope seep away until Bruce’s excited voice explained, “It’s amazing…really he…he seems to be producing the same bio tactics for survival in his body that a fish would use to survive being frozen.”

 

The raccoon, who was still standing on the bio-tank, scoffed, “A fish. We got a fucking fish in here. Amazing.”

 

“Would you – ” Tony started swatting at the raccoon, causing the creature to step back with an offended look on his face. Tony continued sharply, “Would you get off the machine? Furball, this thing costs more than you, get – get down – “

 

The raccoon swung at him and Tony glared, looking at Nebula, “Would you get your friend?”

 

“Not my friend,” Nebula replied.

 

Tony groaned, turning away and stopping the physical battle before it could escalate. Tony shook his head and looked at Bruce, continuing, “So he’s alive?”

 

“Definitely,” Bruce answered, “Vitals are returning steadily…I’d say he’ll be ready for interrogation in the next few hours.”

 

Everyone turned when Steve spoke, voice booming throughout the room, “Good. That’ll give Nat and me some time to get our stuff together and – “

 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Tony interrupted, “Who said you two are the good cop-bad cop here? I don’t remember having a conversation and no offense, but I don’t think Spangles is going to be very intimidating to the guy that can literally murder us with his _brain_.”

 

Nat sighed, “Tony, we have a plan. Just…let us get it together. It’s a last resort, honestly we’re hoping when he realizes he’s absolutely screwed that he’ll squeal, but considering those chances are slim, we’ll be the backup. No one is trying to steal your thunder.”

 

Tony felt anger swell. Right…they still thought this was about pride…about narcissism. No, no it was about his son. His son who was dead. About wanting him back and about half the universe being wiped out. About wanting Thanos dead…incinerated. But of course they would look at Tony and still see that guy who wanted everyone to _look_ at him. Who wanted attention, and sure, he had existed at one point, but he didn’t anymore. He died on Titan.

 

Truthfully…he had sort of died in New York.

 

“You know what?” Tony ground out, “I know this is sort of hard for you to decipher, since you don’t exactly have the best _people_ skills. But my motives are a little different at this point. So maybe think a little harder before you comment on what I’m really here for, or I might just lose my shit next time.”

 

Nat’s face didn’t react but Rhodey stepped forward, “Tones – “

 

Honestly, Tony hadn’t even noticed Rhodey. Tony laughed, bitterly as he shook his head, “Sorry, so, so sorry, I’m just a little on edge here. And being accused of having a big head while my kid is floating around in the Soul Stone is a little triggering so you’ll have to excuse my urge to be destructive – “

 

“Alright, enough,” Shuri cut in, “You’re all in my house. You will behave. No more talking, I can already imagine where this is headed and I’m not making our poor housekeepers clean up a blood bath. Zip it.”

 

Silence overflowed.

 

Thor whistled, “Well…looks like we missed quite a bit of tension on our journey, eh?”

 

The raccoon hopped down from the top of the bio-tank, looking at a watch on his wrist that didn’t exist, shifting on his feet awkwardly in the incredibly thick room, full of silent glares and disdain, “Wow, look at that. I’m late.”

 

Thor agreed, “Yes, I will join you, Rabbit.”


	5. Le Petit Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! So here is chapter five, and I hope you all enjoy ❤❤ I love you all so much and thank you for reading and sending me such sweet things on Tumblr and stuff you guys are so awesome!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains torture and a panic attack. Take care of yourselves if you choose to read! ❤
> 
> (Also, there is mention of a drug in here and I'm not a professional on said drug, I read a wiki page about it which may not be completely accurate. I'm a speech path major, and I got a 'C' in Chemistry so I took creative liberties haha)

The thing about scary telekinetic aliens was this: they were a tad unpredictable.

 

Which meant restraining Squidward down to a table in a glass cell had become the best option. That way they could see him, but keep him down, keep him contained, and containment was key at that point. Tony was struggling with the whole idea of it, considering he had watched the guy torture Strange without lifting a finger, but Nat and Steve had taken point and despite Tony’s protests before, their decision was ultimately followed and Tony had no choice but to play along.

 

Honestly, at that point, Thor, Bruce, Pepper, Shuri, and Rhodey were the only ones not getting on his nerves. Nat was…well, what Nat had said before, about ‘stealing thunder’ was digging into Tony a bit more, even if the time for anger had passed. Steve was Steve, the raccoon was a nuisance all on his own…Clint was being a stoic asshole…and Nebula…well Nebula was silent and broody. Tony wondered how Thor, typically one of the most emotionally constipated members of their group, could show such compassion, but he had. Tony couldn’t grasp if that was because the god had lost so much as well.

 

They all sat in the small area outside of the glass cell. Shuri had left some time ago to handle things with her mother, probably potential-queen-of-Wakanda business. Tony knew they were still pushing for her to commit to the role and she still refused, faithful as ever to her brother and confident in his potential return. Squidward was hope for that, after all, and Tony supposed he should have felt the same thing for Peter, but he was afraid…he was afraid if he let himself become too hopeful with Peter’s life, he would be let down.

 

He would never get back up.

 

It was as simple as that. If Peter didn’t come back…if this didn’t work and if Squidward couldn’t give them Thanos’ location…Tony doubted he would be able to handle it. He sat in his chair, sipping water from a glass as Rhodey paced. Even though Nat and Steve had grasped the backup interrogation plan, Rhodey had decided he would handle the first level of duties. Whatever backup plan the super soldier and former-assassin had chosen though came in a small, metal briefcase, barely big enough to hold a cellphone.

 

Thor and the raccoon were still gone, doing God knows what. Probably irritating the staff somewhere else in the palace, making them want to pull their hair out. Clint had stepped out as well, having a much needed facetime call with his wife. So that left Rhodey, Nebula, Tony, Nat, Steve, and Bruce to handle Squidward. The room was eerily quiet, and Nebula just stared at the wall as Tony watched Bruce monitor the alien’s vitals on his tablet while leaning against the glass cell. Rhodey had yet to stand still and Tony could feel his anxiety spiking just from Rhodey’s physical movements.

 

Tony eventually sighed, “Rhodes, you gotta stop before you give me an aneurysm.”

 

Rhodey stopped in his tracks, looking back at Tony. He waved his hand a bit, almost madly as he apologized, though not sincerely, “Excuse me for being a little anxious over interrogating a freak from outer space. This isn’t my usual game, and he’s taking forever to wake up.”

 

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Bruce provided, looking up, the light from the tablet glaring off his glasses, “I injected him with a stimulant to wake him up. Should only be a few more minutes. That’s theorizing his body reacts similarly as ours to the drug.”

 

Tony rubbed his eyes, “Any chance you can give me a syringe of that?”

 

When he opened them, Bruce was staring at him, unamused. Right, Bruce had never been funny to joke about when concerning drug use. He was a stick in the mud after all, and Tony had almost forgotten that in all the time the doctor had been gone. He had sort of missed it but spending all this time with Bruce had reawakened a boredom that Tony had forgotten existed. Tony rolled his eyes, “Calm down, Banner, I’m not serious.”

 

The quiet that followed said that not everyone believed him. Steve cleared his throat awkwardly and looked at Rhodey, “You know how this is going to go?”

 

“Is it difficult?” Nebula cut in.

 

“Well, when concerning one of Thanos’ followers…yes,” Steve replied, “I would think you would know better than anyone that his ‘children’ are a bit too…loyal. They’d probably die before giving up information.”

 

Nebula made a face. One that said she knew that, but maybe it had slipped her mind. She was never going to admit that though, and sometimes she reminded Tony painfully of himself and when one could relate to an alien/robot, that was when things got weird. As far as bad fathers go well…at least Howard had never tried to destroy half the universe, even if he had been there when the nuke was made.

 

Tony took another sip of his water before reminding, “Just remember, Rhodey. No maiming our prisoner. I know how you get, all hot-headed and stuff. We all know I’m the most level headed one.”

 

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, and Tony could practically read his mind. ‘How much have you had to drink?’ Honestly, nothing…he had, had nothing to drink. But in the time since his argument with Nat and the others, he had sort of lost his mind. Not exactly, but nearly. He was at the verge of something odd, and each passing moment they went with no information, the worse it got. Tony felt like he was itching to get out of his skin, bugs crawling beneath him. He was grateful when a low groan came from inside the glass cell, because he didn’t think he could handle the silence much longer than necessary before he absolutely lost his shit.

 

The first thing Squidward did was blink hard against the florescent lights. The table he was strapped to looked oddly like a dentist chair, angled upward so that he could see them on the other side of the wall. His head lulled slightly, back and forth, hands bound tightly, per Nebula’s suggestion. They’d be safe on the other side of the glass, and supposedly he was weakened without the use of his hands. Tony would believe it when he saw it.

 

Rhodey stood at attention, like the trust soldier he was, and stepped forward, leaning close to the microphone that would allow him to be heard better from within the cell. Rhodey cleared his throat, only glancing back once at Tony and the others, and Nat waved her hand encouragingly, suspicious like a mother trying to get her son to play with other children in a crowded park. Rhodey sighed, speaking into the mic, “Maw? Can you hear me?”

 

Nebula had named him that, or Tony supposed it was probably his actual name. Tony couldn’t stop seeing him as Squidward though, it had been his name for so long. It angered him for the alien to be called by his actual name, because he didn’t deserve such decency, but whatever. If Rhodey felt he needed to do so, so be it.

 

When no response came, Rhodey repeated, “Maw?”

 

“Will you shut up?” Maw’s voice growled, low and warning, his head still having trouble being held upright. Tony would have laughed if he didn’t want the guy dead so badly. He looked like a newborn, all ugly and wrinkly unable to stop his neck from wiggly limply. Squidward continued harshly, “Your voice sounds like wailing.”

 

Rhodey’s face scrunched, maybe a bit offended. Tony wondered when an alien’s opinion began to matter much. Steve stood, moving to stand beside Rhodey. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the shorter man. Steve, who Tony thought wasn’t supposed to be leading this conversation, ordered, “Attention up front.”

 

He had the tone of a soldier. Of a leader, and it was irritating. Tony rolled his eyes, setting his cup aside as he too stood to join them, both Nebula and Nat remaining towards the back and Bruce stepped aside to give Tony room to see into the glass cell a bit better. He was still busy, typing away on his tablet as Maw finally focused his eyes on them, squinting still against the harsh light. He looked less than attentive, but it was slowly coloring into his eyes, spreading into awareness and Tony could feel his hatred, because this guy was coming to life and it wasn’t his son.

 

Clearly his envy had never resolved itself. He was fucking envious that an alien was getting another chance at life when Peter’s had been stolen away. Half the universe’s had been stolen away and Tony tried to pretend he wasn’t so selfish as to only care about whether or not his son got to come back as compared to everyone else.

 

Irrational really, and suddenly Tony felt like he was in his early thirties again, angry that his four-year-old constantly pushed him away in favor of crying for his dead mother.

 

Everyone was silent as Squidward focused up. He seemed to take in the group on the other side of the glass, eyes narrowing as he scanned everyone, eyes eventually settling on Tony himself. Squidward rolled his eyes, though the weakness was still there, “Of course…you return like a difficult insect.”

 

“I could say the same about you,” Tony replied, voice laced with sarcasm to hide the anger, “Or more so a fish, I supposed. That’s the impression I got while thawing you out.”

 

Squidward hummed, his focus then moving to Nebula. He sneered, “You little wench. Betraying your own father to assist these low creatures – “

 

“He was not my father,” Nebula interrupted sharply, “I suggest you mind your tongue. We are here to speak, and you are here to listen and answer accordingly.”

 

Squidward went on, “I am not surprised…you were always the disappointing one.”

 

Tony saw Nebula tense, but was relieved it wasn’t a remake of the episode on Titan when Quill had completely lost his shit. Squidward tugged experimentally on his wrists before looking back up at the group. Rhodey cleared his throat, “We’re going to ask you a few questions, Maw, and we’d like honest responses.”

 

“You’re joking,” Tony looked over at him, “This is your big plan? ‘We’d like honest responses’? Sweet talkin’ the villains are we, Rhodes?”

 

Rhodey ignored him and Maw laughed bitterly, sounding off the walls of his cell and coming out confined, “I actually agree with the Iron Man…your methods lack strength, and so does your voice. This is child’s play.”

 

Again, he too was ignored as Rhodey crossed his arms over his chest, straightening his shoulders, “You’re one of the closest confidents of Thanos’. Which means, we assume he would have confided in you about things he wouldn’t have with the average member of his…his ‘society’. If this observation of ours is correct…that means you possibly know where Thanos would have gone after completing his ultimate goal.”

 

There was silence. Squidward had an odd look on his face, one that was trying to decipher what Rhodey was saying through the drugs. Blankness soon turned to a sharp grin however, and Tony felt his fingernails dig into his palms as he tightened them into fists, shifting slightly and causing Bruce to cast him a worried glance, and even Steve looked slightly disturbed. Rhodey’s face didn’t move, however and Squidward let out a low laugh.

 

“Oh…” Squidward hummed around his shit-eating grin, “I see…you have all met your defeat. Thanos won the war he set out to end and now in your desperation…you have revived me…How very poetic and awfully pathetic.”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes, “Not as pathetic as you’re about to be when we go Guantanamo Bay on your ass. What’s your poison? Water boarding or growing bamboo through your abdomen?”

 

“Tony,” Rhodey scolded, turning just a bit to look at him. Right, this was Rhodey’s rodeo, but hell, Tony couldn’t just keep his mouth shut when the alien looked so proud of mass murder. Mass disappearance. Mass rapture. Whatever the hell it was. Tony snapped his mouth shut though, and looked at the wall to keep himself from spouting out more arguments. The fierceness, the anger, it was all there.

 

Steve’s voice continued the interrogation, and Tony wondered if Rhodey was offended as the super soldier explained, “Listen Maw, there are two ways this can go. You can make it easier on all of us and be compliant, or we can have a very long and drawn out day. Your choice…though I suggest the first option because my friend back here…” He gestured to Nat, “Isn’t as nice as I am.”

 

 _Of course. Good cop, bad cop_ Tony thought.

 

Squidward only shook his head, “Thanos is the ultimate power. I will die before I would ever betray such status.”

 

“Right,” Rhodey sighed, looking at Steve and Nat, “Well…have at it, I guess.”

 

Tony and Bruce asked in unison, “At what?”

 

Neither Nat or Steve replied. Nat instead opened her tiny metal case and out came a syringe and a glass bottle. Tony watched curiously as she slowly filled the syringe with the clear liquid before handing it off to Steve. Steve turned to the cell and looked at Bruce, questioning, “Can you open this thing?”

 

Bruce hesitated, and Tony quickly held up his hand to stop Bruce from going over to do so. Tony questioned sharply, “What the hell is that?”

 

“The backup plan we mentioned earlier,” Steve answered evenly, “This is it. This is the backup plan.”

 

Bruce spoke this time, “And what exactly _is_ the backup plan? What are you about to give him, because I need you to remember this guy doesn’t exactly have the same genetic makeup as a human being. Whatever you’re giving him could be fatal – “

 

“I think it’s a risk worth taking if he won’t talk,” Nat interrupted.

 

Tony glared, “Not exactly, Spy Kid. There are other options as far as torture goes, I mean I spent months in an Afghan cave, I’m sure I can go over some ideas from my long list of past traumas. I’m perfectly willing to offer them up instead of risking the life of our only info source.”

 

“Ever heard of Scopolamine?” Nat snapped.

 

Both Bruce and Tony glanced at one another. Bruce hummed quietly and answered almost hesitantly, as if it was a trick question, “Yeah…they usually prescribe it for extreme nausea but what does that have to do with – “

 

“Truth serum,” Nat cut in, sounding impatient with the entire situation, “Those rumors about it being used for a truth serum weren’t just rumors, despite what people would have you believe. They’re not fairy tales. In 1922, they started using it on criminals to get information out of them.”

 

Tony squinted his eyes, “And you believe that bullshit? Half the stuff people say under ‘truth serums’ is all made up. It’s basically a story book, they’re reading while they’re stoned on the stuff.”

 

 Steve sighed, and Tony turned towards where he still stood, syringe in hand. He practically pleaded, “It’s worth a shot, Tony. If anything, it’ll just put him to sleep, but if we can get _anything_ out of him, it’s worth it, right?”

 

Tony hated to agree. In fact, every bone in his body told him to disagree, specifically the nerves that had been damaged in their Siberian fight. His left arm rolled, hand opening and closing as he looked back and forth between Nat and Steve. He then turned to Bruce, raising an eyebrow as he muttered in defeat, “You’re the doctor.”

 

“Right,” Bruce whispered under his breath before focusing on Steve, “Fine…give it to him. But please…try not to kill him. If he goes into distress I’m going to have to pull him out and God knows how long it’ll take before he’s put together again. At least well enough for interrogation.”

 

Steve nodded mutely, and Bruce moved forward, typing a quick code to open the door. Squidward was watching the narrowed eyes as Steve entered the room, approaching carefully. Squidward cast one look at the needle, and he didn’t look nervous, he looked angry, growling, “You humans and your concoctions. Ridiculous.”

 

Nebula muttered behind Tony, “I could just torture him.”

 

“Trust me,” Tony glanced at her, “I’m not totally against it.”

 

Rhodey gave him a disapproving stare. When Tony returned his attention to Steve, the super soldier was already burying the needle into Squidward’s neck. Tony watched with some satisfaction as the alien wiggled and Steve simply dropped the syringe to the floor without much regard for it. Squidward glared, and continued to squirm, as Steve stood over him with a passive expression on his face.

 

They stood in relative silence, waiting for the drug to take effect. Tony didn’t know how long it would be, he had never had much interest in the biological sciences, but it actually didn’t seem to take long at all. Almost instantly, Squidward’s head began to lull once more and Tony worried for a second he would fall back to sleep and they would have to wait for him to regain consciousness to get anything from him. But Steve poked the alien’s head and it fell back so that Squidward was looking up at him with a dumbfound expression.

 

“Let’s try this again,” Steve started, “Where would Thanos go after completing his mission?”

 

The question was simplified, clearly for the courtesy of making Squidward understand in his now drugged state of mind. It was kind of funny, seeing such a stoic creature look drunk. His forehead tugged downward in confusion, clearly processing, computing, and then that turned into disdain and distrust and the drugs were definitely working, but so was Squidward’s brain and he clearly wasn’t so stupid.

 

“I would…die,” Squidward replied.

 

“Of course he would,” Rhodey muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

Steve tried again, leaning in closer, “Tell us where he would go…surely he talked about somewhere he would hide…a safe place.”

 

Squidward’s head shot up as well and he practically screamed/slurred into Steve’s unfaltering face, “I will die before…I say!”

 

He would die. He would die. He would die. Tony fought the urge to slam his fist into the glass wall in front of him. Tony would die, for his son back, and there was something angering that sadistic people like the followers of Thanos could hold such regard in their heart. That they could feel anything even remotely close to what Tony felt. They felt so distant sometimes and then it turned into ash, like Peter. Like everyone. That distance disappeared, and rage took its place and Tony opened his mouth to scream into the mic, but instead he was stopped when Nebula, with no word to anyone, walked around him, and entered the cell.

 

Steve, looking surprised, stepped back, out of her way and before anyone could react, a small blade was produced from her belt and she sliced through one of Squidward’s fingers.

 

Everyone shouted at once in shock, and Steve grabbed her shoulder, yanking her away as Squidward screamed in agony, clearly able to feel the pain through the drugs. Nat stepped forward hesitantly as Rhodey ran a hand over his head and groaned, “This is a shit show.”

 

“It always is,” Bruce didn’t sound even remotely surprised, moving to shout through the door, almost like a man scolding his dog for eating newspaper, “Nebula! Stop it!”

 

She looked at everyone, as if surprised by their argument at her actions. She pulled from Steve’s hold and snapped, “He isn’t going to give anything up with you all coddling him. You’re behaving like a bunch of cowards, you have to be more abrasive.”

 

Bruce held up a finger, “No, no…No, no, we have a plan.”

 

“Plans change,” Tony interjected, “I agree with Little-Blue-Peep here, the drug isn’t going to be enough if he’s brainwashed into believing Thanos’ bullshit propaganda. Let her do her work, but – “

 

Tony made eye contact with Nebula through the glass, “Don’t kill him. We might need him later.”

 

“No this is –“ Steve tried but Nat shook her head silently, catching his gaze. There was some silent conversation there, explaining that plans maybe did in fact change. Squidward was gasping, leaning forward, face contorted into agony, and Nebula stepped towards him once more, taking Nat’s stare as permission to continue her assault. She grabbed Squidward by the throat and leaned close, knife settling on the skin of one of his other fingers.

 

“Now,” Nebula growled, “I am much less kind than these humans. And though I cannot kill you, I will make sure you turn into a living stump, legless and armless, and I will ensure you are conscious for each and every amputation. So… _Talk_. Where is Thanos?”

 

The alien breathed, ragged. Gasped. Tony felt an odd satisfaction, despite the blood staining the white floor of the cell. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted Squidward to feel pain. To feel agony. To hurt the way he hurt over his child. Steve was tense behind Nebula, ready to step in at any moment, but Tony trusted her in an odd way to make the correct decisions when it came to the interrogation. Tony didn’t know if the alien was blinking hard from the drugs or the pain, but his stoicism had shifted into horror so quickly it gave them all whiplash…

 

“You…you…you,” He slurred, “You wretched little monster!”

 

Nebula replied fiercely, “You have yet to see a monster, Maw. You followed a monster to the edge of the galaxy and I am here now, waiting for you. Do as I say before I show you the kind of beast Thanos created, tearing each of my limbs from my body!”

 

Her hand tightened on his throat, “TALK!”

 

Bruce flinched slightly, stepping away from the cell, but no one else moved. Tony grit his teeth, waiting in the unwavering silence as Squidward watched Nebula, finally giving into terror. Her blade pressed further down on his finger, while the other continued to bleed freely.

 

And then…by some miracle. God, drugs, torture, whatever it may have been…Squidward croaked a response…

 

“His dreams,” Squidward hissed, “The stones were meant to help him retire to his dreams…on a planet of peace.”

 

Steve stepped sideways a bit and questioned, “Where?”

 

Squidward groaned, frustration clear as he squirmed under Nebula’s hold, his second finger beginning to bleed as her knife continued to break skin. He insisted, “That is all I know…That is all he ever said.”

 

Nebula’s face remained cold…Even. But Tony didn’t miss the way her brow pulled and her eyes went wide a moment before she released the alien’s throat. She turned slowly, to face the others, expression knowing, _knowing_ , like the future was held there in a cradle. She moved towards the door of the cell, exiting and Steve followed, shutting the door behind himself. She moved to the mic, and shut it off as to only feed silence into the room where Squidward had let his head go limp against the chair behind him.

 

Nat was the first to ask the question on everyone’s mind, “Do you know?”

 

“I think,” Nebula replied, a ghost fighting inside of her and Tony understood, he had so many of those as well, “He…Thanos…There was a planet that we landed on. I was younger at the time, as was Gamora. It was the only planet he left untouched…He believed it to be perfection and our presence would only harm it.”

 

She paused, then finished, “It was what he wished for the rest of the universe.”

 

“So an abandoned, peaceful planet,” Rhodey nodded, “Great. Awesome. More Star Wars shit, I presume.”

 

That was all Tony needed to hear, he stepped forward, pointing at Squidward in the cell, “Alright, here’s how this is going to go. He’s going to get patched up and left here in his little cell. Keep him alive, but don’t let anyone have contact with him…When he’s soberer he’ll be more dangerous with his brain-stuff. You…”

 

He looked at Nebula, “Get us a course for this planet. We’ll get _The Red Queen_ and come up with a plan of attack. Ready, set…go.”

 

Tony heard Steve say something to him, but he hurriedly exited the room. He stumbled a bit, into the hallway and his heart was racing in his chest suddenly. He hadn’t realized that a familiar pressure was there, one that hadn’t plagued him for a while now. Through therapy, through help, through, and through, and through, it should have been over. He should have felt hope, because they knew where Thanos was then, or at least had an idea. They were a step closer but…

 

But he was terrified.

 

The floor was like sand, like he was sinking and Tony used the wall to support himself, holding onto his chest as he tried to get back to his living quarters in the palace. His chest wasn’t expanding quite enough and he could hear blood rushing in his ears. His child standing in front of him, ready to take the strike that Thanos had prepared for him. Strange giving up the stone…Peter, _Peter_ turning to ash in his arms and God, where had God _been_ if he was even up there?

 

Tony felt like vomiting, he felt like ceasing, he felt afraid, like it had snuck from the roots of the building into his body. Because yeah, it was good they had an idea of where Thanos was, but that meant that were going to have to fight and Tony’s wound still ached. He didn’t care if he died, but he cared if he succeeded in bringing back his son, and this gave the potential for another failure that he wasn’t so sure he could survive.

 

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Being submerged had become second nature in Afghanistan, but he was on dry land, it shouldn’t have been that way. He should have still had a son. He should have been in New York impatiently waiting for Peter’s semester to end so that he could drag the kid all around the world with him. So Peter wouldn’t be left at home, and then they would argue because of course Peter would want to stay to continue his patrols. And Tony would have the chance to be angry at his kid, because he couldn’t be angry at a dead kid, it didn’t work that way.

 

Tony struggled to stay upright as he entered his room. Pepper wasn’t there, and he ducked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. He turned on the sink, cold water spilling out and he hurriedly splashed it over his face and the back of his neck, gasping into the sink. The porcelain was like a bowl around his head and he sat like that, chilly water running over him, swallowing him, and panic. Panic. Panic.

 

_“Dad?”_

Peter’s voice filtered in. Tony wanted to sob.

 

_“Dad…Dad it’s me. It’s me.”_

Of course…Of course.

 

_“Look at me!”_

Tony’s back went rigid suddenly, and he looked up. To his shock, staring back at him in the mirror, he didn’t see himself…

 

Instead…he saw Peter.

 

…

Peter squirmed, settled in front of Loki on the floor of the sitting room. The mirror had been removed from the wall and placed on the floor in front of them. They sat across from each other, and Peter could feel Loki’s eyes boring into him…tearing and thrashing because this was not what the god wanted. In fact, if Peter had to bet, it was the last thing the god wanted in the whole Soul Stone.

 

He shivered slightly, but he had removed the cloak Loki had given him because he knew he was bound to emerge soaking wet anyway. That seemed to be a theme with the mirror, like being dunked under icy water. Peter couldn’t look Loki in the eyes, worried about what he was going to say in an attempt to convince him not to do what needed to be done. He had been trying for the past several hours to do so and Peter just…He couldn’t…

 

“It will hurt,” Loki broke the silence.

 

Peter nodded slowly, “I-I know.”

 

Loki didn’t look convinced. As if Peter didn’t know true pain, didn’t know true sacrifice, and Peter was so willing to give everything if it meant being able to see his dad again. If it meant getting out of that place. Sure, it wasn’t so miserable with Loki there anymore…things were more comfortable…but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Peter was supposed to be in the real world with, with real people, existing.

 

Peter folded his hands together and spoke softly, “Mister Loki…I swear…I _promise_ that I’ll be okay. This is what we have to do, right? It’s the right thing to do…to help them…to get out of here and to help ourselves too. Half the universe could be saved by this.”

 

“It is not the place of a child to save everyone, boy,” Loki sounded angry and Peter only flinched slightly.

 

_Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them._

 

Peter shook his head, opting to explain anyway in the easiest way he could possibly do so, “Doesn’t matter. The responsibility was put here, and it’s mine now. It’s ours.”

 

Loki sighed deeply, shaking his head back and forth, but he didn’t argue further. Instead he scooted closer to the mirror between them, running his hands along the metal frame, fingers barely touching it. Peter could hear the humming and swore sparks were shocking out of Loki’s fingers at the contact. Like the two didn’t want to intermingle…like it didn’t want Loki to touch it. Loki shut his eyes slowly and muttered, “I will make the way for you. But you must enter alone so that I can hold the entrance open for your return.”

 

“Okay,” Peter could barely even hear himself.

 

The god’s fingers stopped moving and raised slightly from the surface before sliding over the ‘glass’ of the mirror. Ripples formed, bouncing against the edges like silver water. Peter’s eyes were wide, the reflection glistening around his brown irises. He resisted the urge to touch it as well, but the mirror was always dragging him inside before he was quite ready. Peter swallowed thickly, the fire from the fireplace burning and crackling in the silence and Loki’s breathing slowly picked up.

 

The sparks were real.

 

They emerged from Loki’s fingertips, dark, black, and casting over the mirror, digging into the ripples like roots, like lightning spreading its arms. It would have been beautiful if not so terrifying and Peter leaned forward, murmuring, “Woah.”

 

Then the silver turned to black. The mirror was no longer a mirror, but instead looked like a hole entering an abyss of nothingness. Peter startled, unable to see himself anymore leaning over the edge. His heart fluttered, fluttered, fluttered, like pain. Like everything. Peter was in an existence with the mirror, and Loki’s eyes opened suddenly, and Peter almost screamed because they were shimmering.

 

Loki looked like a demon from a horror movie, with his eyes like that. He ordered in a booming voice, “Go. You have to enter it now.”

 

Peter hesitated, and Loki shouted the order one last time, “Go!”

 

He jumped to his feet, staring down at the dark mirror, that looked like a long drop. Peter felt like vomiting, but he held it back and stepped forward, one foot first. The blackness slowly climbed up his ankle, wrapping tightly around his calf. Vines crawled upward, over his knee, over his thigh and Peter brought the other leg forward, and it too was swallowed up. Peter didn’t feel pain, even when he was yanked under the surface by the vines wrapping up his body to his throat.

 

This wasn’t falling. This was dragging, very specifically. The world was nothing but emptiness and echoes, a threat of not existing at all. Peter opened his mouth to scream, like on a roller coaster, but he couldn’t. The blackness filled his lungs, swirling around inside him. Not pain either, and Peter felt anxious about when it would come. When he would cry.

 

Peter missed existing in a normal sort of way.

 

He was expelled missing such things. Thrown back into lighting, florescent, arms ripping him around as he was abandoned by the darkness. Florescent lighting filled his vision and Peter realized he was in a bathroom…Well, not in it…but looking at it…And leaning over the sink, head shoved into it with the water running…was the unmistakable head of Tony Stark.

 

His father.

 

Peter choked suddenly, the urge to cry hitting him. That was the initial, childish sensation. Wanting to cry and scream and beg his father to free him from the mirror. To get out. To get to him. To break free. But it couldn’t be that way, and Peter reached out, pressing his hand to the invisible barrier that must have been another mirror in the bathroom. Tears burned his eyes, and he blinked profusely, but a few slipped through.

 

“Dad?”

 

There was no response. His father didn’t even look up and Peter tried once more, “Dad…It’s me…It’s me.”

 

His father was gasping…Like he couldn’t breathe and Peter recognized it. Apparently they had chosen the exact moment his father was losing it to arrive. Not the best decision but it had been made and he was there now, and Loki was probably struggling to hold the place open for his return. Peter slammed his hand on the invisible wall and shouted, “Look at me!”

 

Peter didn’t want to be invisible. Not like when he had seen his father talking to Clint. Drunk out of his mind. His father’s head flew up, and Peter saw the eyes that they shared. The eyes that were his father’s and then they had been given to Peter and Peter’s hand turned into a fist, and he bit down on his lip, eyes burning worse now because he could see his dad but he just wanted to hug him and he couldn’t do that.

 

The worst sort of feeling fell over the room. Like knife after knife, and Peter fought the tears that still arrived, tearing through, and his father stepped back in shock and Peter understood…he didn’t believe him. Didn’t believe _it_. That Peter was there in the bathroom with him and Peter watched his father split into a million pieces. He watched him run both hands through his hair and hiss, “Holy shit.”

 

“No, no, no,” Peter held up his hands, “I know what you’re thinking! I know, okay? I know it’s crazy! B-But it’s me, it’s really me, Dad, I’m here. I’m here.”

 

Peter wished he could read his mind, because the silent not-knowing was killing him. His father dropped his hands, eyes not going back to normal, but he was gripping his chest and Peter hoped he wasn’t about to give his dad a heart attack. The man questioned softly, “Peter?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter affirmed, relief flooding him that maybe his father did in fact believe it, “Yeah, Dad, it’s me. I’m here. Well…I mean, I’m still in the Soul Stone, but I’m here…Sort of…But I don’t got a lot of time, okay? I’ve just got something really important to tell you.”

 

His father let out a shaky breath of confusion, “Don’t…don’t, God…what?”

 

“Listen,” Peter ordered, placing his hands on the glass, “Listen to me. I saw Thanos here…here in the Soul Stone. Loki and I are being held in the same ‘prison’ thing and I…God, it’s hard to explain…but we talked to Gamora, you know, the girl Star Lord was looking for? We found her, a-and she said if we hurt Thanos here, he could be weakened there in the real world.”

 

He missed his dad. Peter missed him so much. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to explain everything was okay, but there was so little time. His father was still beside himself, still stumbling over words, unable to speak, but Peter thought that was probably the normal reaction of someone seeing their dead son in a mirror. It was like Bloody Mary or something.

 

“Do you understand?” Peter questioned, “Do you understand what I’m saying? Loki and I can hurt Thanos here enough to help you guys there, but you have to hurry. You have to find Thanos.”

 

The silence happened. Peter’s arms shook and there was something tugging in his stomach, a pain. Something like hurt was rising up inside of him into his chest, and maybe that was the agony everyone had been talking about, but it was still bearable, despite it calling him back into the void. Peter felt tears, and his chest quaked while his dad just watched and he prayed for his father to believe.

 

Peter was crying. He didn’t know when he had started, but he had at some point. He was definitely crying.

 

“Dad,” Peter whispered, and yeah…a tear got out, “It’s _me_. Do you believe me?”

 

His father shook his head, and Peter worried he was about to say no. That all of this was for nothing. There was heat, rising, rising, rising and Peter felt so alone on the other side of that glass, pressing his hands in, wanting to hug the man on the other side. To his shock though, his dad didn’t say that he didn’t believe him. Instead he replied, “You’re _here_.”

 

“Y-Yes!” Peter exclaimed, but then backtracked, “Well…like I said…not exactly. I have to go back to the Soul Stone…I have to go back to Loki but…we can do this, Dad. If we plan this out right…Loki and I can hurt Thanos and you guys can kill him.”

 

Peter paused, then finished, “And we can all be together again.”

 

“Loki,” His father tugged at his hair, “What the hell is Loki doing with you?”

 

Peter stomped his foot, “That’s beside the point! We need to figure this out now, I don’t have much time to be here, I can only stay for a little while!”

 

The man hurried forward, and he too pressed his palms into the mirror, standing on the bathroom counter. Peter almost moved away in surprise of having his dad so close, but he stayed as his dad pressed his hands over Peter’s on the invisible wall. Peter thought he could practically feel him there…with him. Trapped. Peter felt alive, like their family wasn’t lost and he wanted so desperately to go home. More crying, only a second as his lip trembled and he stared up at his dad.

 

“Okay…” His father breathed, much calmer this time, “Okay, Peter…I’m here, buddy. We’re gonna figure it out…You said you and Loki can hurt Thanos there and weaken him, right?”

 

Peter nodded vehemently, and his dad went on, sounding exhausted and shaky, “T-That’s pretty perfect, kid. We just got done interrogating Squidward…Remember him?”

 

“Y-Yeah,” Peter croaked.

 

“Good…well, he gave us some info on Thanos’ whereabouts and Nebula is pretty sure she knows where we’re going,” His dad’s voice got weaker and weaker by the moment, but Peter could hear the underlying leader. Like he wanted to talk to Peter like he was soldier, but ultimately Peter was his sixteen-year-old son, “We’re headed there as soon as we can get a course set for the planet…Banner and I put together a machine that’s going to help us but…if what you said is true about weakening Thanos from the Soul Stone, I’m going to need you to do that for us.”

 

There was hesitancy in the request. And Peter knew he should have been scared, but the same pride from before, the one when he had been made an Avenger, it swirled. His father was asking this of him. His father was asking for his help and he could do it. He could hurt Thanos, surely, _surely_ he could do _something_. And Loki would be there to help him. Peter pressed into the invisible wall, “Yes sir…I-I got it.”

 

“Shit,” His father breathed, “God I…I’m so sorry.”

 

Peter startled at the sudden apology, head snapping back a bit, “What for?”

 

Suddenly, before his dad could respond, pain jolted up Peter’s spine. Peter snapped backward, stepping from the mirror as he wrapped his arms around his middle, squeezing. He saw his dad’s eyes widen and the man questioned worriedly, “What’s wrong?”

 

Peter stood straight, eyes wide as he gasped, “I’ve…I have to go…I-I…Loki is holding the line open I gotta…Dad I gotta _go_.”

 

The last word escaped like a sob. Peter sniffed, glancing into the darkness behind him before looking at his dad who was still standing on the cabinet. His dad ordered, “No, not yet. Peter, not _yet_.”

 

“I have to,” Peter whimpered, “It _hurts_. I can’t stay, I want to…but I can’t. I’m so sorry – “

 

His father interrupted, sounding almost angry but drowned in hysteria, “Don’t say that!”

 

Peter flinched at the harshness in the man’s voice and again, Peter hadn’t said what he wanted to. The boy pressed forward, but the closer he came to his father the more the pain intensified. He pressed his hand over his dad’s and ground out through the ripping sensation over his skin and down to his toes, “I love you. I’ll come back…I promise, I promise I’ll come back.”

 

His father was voiceless and suddenly, what felt like a hook grabbed his lower back and yanked him into the abyss.

 

His father didn’t say it back.

 

Peter…was dragged across shards…what felt like shards of glass. Miles of it. It was the only thing he could compare it to. The agonizing sting of a thousand tiny cuts covering his body, but when he looked, he was not bleeding. Microscopic, and ripping, and invisible, like an insane person. Peter was drowning in it, and it shredded his lungs, his hands, his fingers. The edges felt like cookie cutters, and Peter was silenced.

 

His mouth opened in a wail, but nothing escaped.

 

Becoming whole again. Becoming Real…it wasn’t like being washed ashore like it had been the first time. This time was a sewing needle, stitching him together over and over, like a million threads. Peter was lost in it and finally, he heard his silent wail transform into a scream. Bloody murder, and Peter had never heard himself scream so loudly, but it was a hell fire sort of pain. The kind that was like ice being poured over the body. Falling through a lake and then defrosting, feeling returning with the fire.

 

Peter screamed and screamed and screamed.

 

He screamed his throat raw.

 

He screamed until his eyes snapped open, because someone was yanking him into a sitting position. That particular wail turned into a stifled cry as a blanket wrapped tightly around his soaked shoulders. He shook, but whether from the cold or the pain, he didn’t know. Loki was there, in front of him, eyeing him like an injured animal, and he supposed he was. Crushed up and spat out to be put through a cheese grater.

 

Loki’s mouth was moving, and it took a moment for Peter to make out what he was saying…

 

“Shhh…Shhh…”

 

For the first time since meeting Loki, his touch was gentle. Loki grabbed his arms and propped him up against the edge of the sofa, pulling the blanket tighter around Peter’s shoulders. Peter struggled to draw air into his lungs, but it wouldn’t and he choked, coughing up water but he was more surprised he wasn’t spitting up shards of glass. Peter looked at Loki gasped, “It hurts, it _hurts_ …”

 

“You have to breathe,” Loki ordered, and his voice did not imitate his handling, because it was not gentle, it was hard, and forced Peter to listen, “Take a deep breath, _now_.”

 

Peter did as he was told, drawing air into his lungs, despite how badly it ached. Loki pressed a hand to his chest and held it there before following through with the advice, “Now let it out…slowly…”

 

It was like a panic attack. Like how his father would calm him after the nightmares of buildings falling on him and parachutes dragging him into water. Peter repeated the process, over and over again, until eventually the spasming in his body released into nothing but small hiccups. His face was warm with tears, and he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them closely as Loki removed his hand. He was seemingly satisfied with Peter, calmed enough to breathe on his own without prompt.

 

Peter coughed, several times, a fit of it hitting him. The sitting room was warm, chasing the cold from the soaking water. The fire spoke…the fire talked for him and Peter sniffled, nose clogged. His hands shook as he looked at Loki, who looked at a loss for words. Peter’s lip quaked again as he stared at the god, wanting to tell him what happened, but words were hard and he couldn’t find them. The tears must have disturbed the god, because he said quickly, “You’re alright, child.”

 

The boy had known it was going to hurt, but it didn’t make it any less _horrible_. He gripped the edges of the blankets, fingernails digging in as he croaked, “That was so bad.”

 

Peter had half-expected to be told ‘I told you so’ but it never came. Loki was instead, lost in a deep thought…contemplation. Eventually, the god questioned, “You spoke to your father?”

 

“Yes,” Peter replied weakly, “He…he said they know where Thanos is and they’re going to face him soon…Which means if we’re going to do this, it needs to be before they get there.”

 

Loki nodded, expression unreadable. Peter continued, “We’ll need to get ready.”

 

“Ha,” Loki let out the sound, but it didn’t seem remotely amused. In fact, it was sort of irritated, but Peter figured it wasn’t with him exactly. He continued to shake, hugging himself as Loki no longer offered the comfort he had moments before. Clearly he figured Peter had grasped himself enough to reply sharply, “You make it sound like something simple.”

 

Peter swallowed thickly, confused and Loki must have noticed because he explained, “You seem to forget you are only here because you are important to your father. Ultimately though…Thanos will not hesitate to strike you out of existence, even if he views your father as being a ‘king’ among the mortals. If action calls for it…he will see you dead, Little Prince.”

 

Before Peter could say anything, he felt something warm sliding down his face, under his nose. Loki’s brows furrowed in concern and Peter reached up quickly with his unsteady hand, swiping the source. His fingers came back red, and Peter eyed it with awe. Must have been a hell of a strain on him…glass and all.

 

His eyes watered with tears…tears that he tried his best to swallow down and out of existence because he wanted to be brave. He didn’t want to show that Loki’s words were resonating and that he was frightened. He had to be like his father…he had to put it together, even when there were no pieces left. He could cry when he was alone.

 

“We’ve gotta fight.”

 

_It is such a secret place, the land of tears._


	6. James and the Giant Peach: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was not looking at his future widow while preparing to go off to war, because that would have been a stupid movie trope and Tony was not a stupid movie trope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! So, I had thought this chapter was going to be the big fight (one of them anyway hehehe), but it ended up being so long I decided to split it into two chapters instead. I felt like it would be less overwhelming that way, so I hope you guys enjoy! I love all of you and thank you for such sweet reviews and kind messages on tumblr and stuff ❤❤❤
> 
> AND ALSO THAT FREAKING TRAILER GUYS I WAS KILLED. I THOUGHT FOR SURE SHURI MADE IT AND GEE GUESS I WAS WRONG HUH? sILLY ME. (And also silly me for thinking Tony and Nebula would have no trouble getting home hahaha, kill me)

Tony had become a father through resistance and mistakes.

 

Sometimes, when he saw fathers who had planned for the existence of their child…he found it rather odd. According to Clint, all three of their children had been planned. That he and his wife had always talked about having three or four children on their farm. They had been born within wedlock, within love, within nurturing and Tony just couldn’t imagine having had that with Mary. Truthfully, he had never been in love with her. He had loved her brilliance. Her intelligence, her smile, and the idea of her, but not her. It had only been one night after all, on Christmas.

 

A part of him loved her because she had been the mother of his child and he wished she were alive, for Peter’s sake. Maybe things would have been easier for him had he had Mary around, but if Mary had never died, maybe Tony would have never met Peter…and that in itself was a horrible thought, at least to Tony. The idea of never meeting his kid…well, it was selfish, but it angered him slightly. Sometimes he was angry Mary hadn’t told him.

 

Peter existed purely due to chance…And it was due to chance that Tony knew about him.

 

But it was the cruelty of fate that had taken Peter.

 

Well, Tony didn’t believe in fate, so screw that. Tony would make his own fate. Because his kid had looked at him, had stared with hope in his eyes because they were going to do it. They were going to kill Thanos and win and everything was happening at once in a matter of seconds that flew. Tony stood in front of the mirror, face blanched, eyes wide and he didn’t know what he was waiting for. Maybe for Peter to come back, but his child had seemed pretty certain that he had to leave.

 

A part of Tony wasn’t sure if the encounter had happened at all…If he had even seen Peter there, through the glass, because he was really standing on the edge of a precipice. He had been since washing the ash off his body and down the drain in the very bathroom he stood in now. His nails nearly broke under the strain of gripping the counter top. There was something very wrong with it all…because if he could barely believe it himself, how was he going to explain it to the others?

 

They’d never believe him and not to be dramatic, but Steve especially wouldn’t.

 

He was vaguely aware of the door to his left opening slowly and only jumped to attention when a hand wrapped around his arm gently. Tony cringed back, yanking away and he looked over to see Pepper, startled by his sudden movement. The surprise turned into concern so quickly Tony nearly shouted for her not to worry about him, to look away, because no one could know. No one would let him help otherwise.

 

“Tony?” She questioned, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I…” He started but stopped.

 

His eyes shifted to the window behind her head. It was not temptation, it was…it was reassurance that there was an outside. He shifted on his feet, shook his head, because he couldn’t say it. He had hurt her so much already and this would only make it worse, but someone had to know. Tony had to let someone know because otherwise…otherwise he would be in this suffering alone, but he didn’t know who he could make understand.

 

Until he did.

 

“Nothing,” Tony replied, moving past her and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for blowing off his fiancée much like the phone call. She had flown all the way to Wakanda to give her comfort, and yet he still wasn’t willing to accept it, but he needed…there was something he needed to do so, he couldn’t tell her. Because the explanation, the pain, it would all be too much. She loved Peter too…and it only complicated things to love him.

 

She grabbed at his wrist and tried to pull him back, “Tony, you look awful – “

 

“Pep, I know,” Tony answered, turning just enough to face her, “I know I look really shitty right now, but if…I swear if you let this go for now…It’ll make sense later. But right now, I’ve got to get some stuff together…There’s _a_ _lot_ to get together.”

 

“Did you interrogate that…man? Alien?” Pepper whispered.

 

Tony hesitated. He hesitated because he was deciding whether to tell her then or later that they were going to be leaving the planet. Again, too time consuming. Things needed to be done, but he couldn’t just jump in another ship and wave her off, because she was one of _the loves_. One of the very deep, slicing loves in his life and he wasn’t going to go without a goodbye. He stopped trying to leave and grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly and nodding in confirmation.

 

She waited, before she questioned, “And?”

 

“And…” Tony sighed, “He told us where we could find Thanos…or…at least gave us an idea. Little-Blue-Peep is going to find us a way there and…well we’re going to go.”

 

He could see the words calculating in her head, like a math equation behind her beautiful eyes. God, she was so beautiful, and Tony decided maybe Starks really did only destroy beautiful things. Tony had created Peter and Tony’s lack of perception had led to his dead, Pepper loved him so willingly and he was always pushing her further and further away. Destroying her, because when she had called, and he was on that spaceship, he could hear it in her voice when she pleaded for him to come back. He was ruining her.

 

She looked devastated, then she looked strong, “No. No you’re not.”

 

“Pep – “ Tony tried but she gripped her fists.

 

“No,” She growled again, and her voice didn’t raise. She didn’t scream, “Why is it that every time you manage to crawl back in pieces, the second you’re somewhat glued back together you run off again? Why are you so set on getting yourself killed on some other planet?”

 

She _didn’t scream_ , but when Tony didn’t reply, that was when her voice raised, “There has to be another way for you all to do this! A way to get him here, instead of you risking life and limb to save half the universe – “

 

Tony couldn’t help it, maybe she wouldn’t shout beyond her raised voice, but he would, just to make her understand why it had to be that way…why the world was slipping between his fingers and he wasn’t doing it anymore, “Because it isn’t just half the universe, Pepper, it’s _Peter_!”

 

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t really even react beyond blinking. She had that fire in her gaze that had always made Tony want to listen. It made him want to be better, because sure she was so strong, but she didn’t _have_ to be. Pepper answered him softly, the slight pitch in her voice gone, “You are no use to him dead.”

 

“And I’m no use to him here,” Tony replied, “I’m no use to anyone if I sit on my ass being afraid. We _have_ to do this…This is the only way we’re going to get him back…the only way we’re going to get _anyone_ back.”

 

Pepper stepped away. There wasn’t betrayal, but there was definite frustration. As if there was so much she wanted to say, but Tony couldn’t…he couldn’t be that guy. The one that just did it because he had to. This was what he had to do, it was too hard…Tony didn’t feel sad anymore, suddenly, he felt angry and he felt driven. Like the nights, after New York, in his lab building and building and he just couldn’t stop, because he had seen his son in the mirror. Peter had been alive. Peter had been…

 

God, he wished he could tell her without hurting her.

 

“I had breakfast with the Queen Mother today,” Pepper murmured quietly, surprising Tony. Her stare was far away, behind Tony’s head. As desperately as Tony had wanted her to understand, it looked more like she was giving up on something and that wasn’t what he had wanted. She went on, “She told me about her husband…and her son. About how losing both of them in a span of a few years…has been so hard. But she has managed. I don’t think I can be like her, Tony, I don’t think I can be that strong.”

 

Tony felt ice climb up his spine as he stepped forward and cupped her face gently, as gently as his rough hands could muster on her soft face. Intimacy felt hard, it felt like knives, but Tony was so very thankful she wasn’t turning to ash under his fingers, because he thought…wasn’t that what happened to people he loved?

 

“You are the strongest person I know,” Maybe he should have reassured her. Told her not to worry because he would come back, but he wasn’t willing to lie. He didn’t know if he would come back. He didn’t know if he would ever be okay again. Even if he did come back physically, if he came back without Peter, he would never really be himself ever again.

 

Pepper blinked, hard, then stepped away. She shut her eyes, rubbed her palms over them and turned and left the room.

 

He wondered if he should chase after her. But all Tony could really do was listen to her heels click away. It was wrong, he was wrong, but there was no right option, only the better one, and killing Thanos, getting the gauntlet…That was the hope they needed. What the rest of the universe needed. Eventually her footsteps faded away and Tony stood there a few more moments, wishing he had kissed her.

 

Eventually he left the bathroom, because even if he couldn’t tell Pepper about the mirror, there was one person he could tell.

 

He found said person in the kitchen. No staff was present, and the emptiness was sort of unsettling in the metallic room. Fridges lined the walls and maybe there was no one there because most of the staff had disappeared or because there were hardly any mouths to feed anymore within the palace. Either way it was eerie, because Tony knew it hadn’t always been that way.

 

Tony stopped behind the large figure, who was sitting on a stool, leaning over a table eating something with his fingers. Tony had never seen the man so…sullen. He looked completely opposite of what he used to, and Tony just…well, it was odd and unpleasant.

 

“Thor.”

 

Thor didn’t jump, but slowly turned, mouth still swollen with food. He regarded Tony silently, before he swallowed and nodded his head, “Ah, Stark…Do not worry, Rogers filled me in on what is happening. I figured I’d have a meal before we start getting busy and there was a lot of this bird in the fridge.”

 

Tony approached, shaking his head as he reassured, “Don’t worry, big-guy, I’m not here to rush you.”

 

It was meant to be funny, but Tony’s voice sounded weak. It sounded quieter than usual, and he just…he was struggling a bit to get his mind to catch up with what was really going. With what he was about to say to the god. Because hell…it even sounded crazy to him and he debated on just coming right out and saying it or trying to bounce around the topic until he could eventually run into it full force.

 

Thor nodded, continuing to chew, but once the silence droned on for too long, he gestured towards Tony, “Something important?”

 

“Well, sort of,” Tony latched onto nonchalance like life-support, “I just have a question. I dunno if you’ll know the answer, but I figured since you’re from a place a bit more adept in this sort of thing, you’d maybe have an idea.”

 

Thor smiled. It was small, and Tony hadn’t missed the pain that had been on the god’s face since Tony had arrived in Wakanda. Tony had heard, the turmoil that had come to plague Thor’s life and sometimes Tony forgot the guy was sort of human, and that he too felt the same loss as everyone else. Even for the brother that had attacked New York…Thor hummed, “Right, go ahead.”

 

Tony pulled up a stool, taking a seat beside the other man, “This is theoretical of course. But suppose someone had a mirror…inside a place… _like_ the Soul Stone. Could they…contact someone outside of said place?”

 

“Using a mirror?” Thor questioned with his mouth full.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Thor pondered on it a few moments before he replied, “Well…I’m unsure. The Soul Stone is odd, and I’m not entirely educated on its use, but from what I understand, many of the souls within keep their connection to the physical world. I’ve heard stories of mirrors acting as veils, but most are children’s legends.”

 

“Like Blood Mary,” Tony provided.

 

“I have never heard that one, but sure,” Thor shrugged, “Why mirrors specifically?”

 

Tony folded his hands together on the table and Thor suddenly eyed him warily, as if he understood the motion. Maybe it was bringing back too many thoughts of Ultron. Tony, in a sadistic sort of way, wanted to laugh at the memory of a hand around his throat, trying to choke him while his son had been in the room with them. But he ignored it, then, to eye Thor seriously as he relented, “Let’s say…someone saw a person from the Soul Stone in one of these mirrors. What would you say about that?”

 

“I would say it would take incredible power to reach us through the barrier,” Thor dropped his bite of turkey back onto the plate and turned himself to face Tony fully, “Stark, what is this about?”

 

Tony sat up straight, unfolding his fingers to set his hands on his knees. He knew he would need to tell Thor eventually, but he was so worried about not being believed, that it was making him tremble. He fought it though, fought the shaking to sit still. To seem as stoic as ever there in the kitchen where half the universe was gone.

 

“Would Loki be powerful enough to assist someone in doing it?”

 

Thor looked taken aback. His mouth opened in surprise, head jolting backward, and brows going down. Like he had been struck in the nose or the mouth, somewhere that made eyes burn and hearts race. Something that got fists flying but for no particular reason. Thor eyed Tony, like he had grown two heads, or was crazy, which was not what he wanted. It was the last thing he _needed_ actually.

 

“You want to know…if Loki would be powerful enough to send someone through a mirror?” Thor asked, voice low and untrusting and it made Tony feel slightly nauseous at the thought of not being believed. So, he nodded mutely in response and Thor went further, “Tell me why you’re asking this.”

 

Right. Quick to the point, and it made sense. Perfect sense. Tony knew why he wanted to know, but he didn’t want to say it. He scratched his face before running a hand through his hair and he looked away from Thor. He needed to bring the nonchalance back, if only to fight the hysteria. Tony cleared his throat and looked at the floor awkwardly.

 

“My kid kind of…showed up in my bathroom mirror with a message from the Soul Stone…He said he was with Loki.”

 

The thing about Thor was this: sometimes he reacted and sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes things were weird to him and sometimes they weren’t. The first time they had introduced him to toaster strudel he had thought it was the best thing ever. But questions about the Soul Stone seemed like second nature to answer. He seemed born of all weird things, all cosmic things, but even this appeared to throw him for a loop. Tony watched as he swallowed thickly…throat bobbing up and down as if looking for words.

 

“He what?” Thor whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Tony replied, “Peter…was in my mirror. He said he was _with_ Loki and that the two of them were going to try and…hurt Thanos inside the Soul Stone to weaken him so that we could move in…So we would have a fighting chance.”

 

This was where believers went to die.

 

Tony thought surely, that was the truth. Believers died around him, whether it be figuratively or literally. Yinsen had believed, after all. Peter had believed. Tony wondered when that stopped, _where_ it stopped. He wondered how inching closer to nothingness became more appealing than that of friendly faces. It had happened at the time of the distrust in himself.

 

He would always and forever be the murderer of believers.

 

But…to his shock, Thor’s expression didn’t contort into that of…pity. Not into insanity-assumptions. Not into what Tony had expected, but Tony didn’t allow hope to bloom inside of him because it might have been too good to be true. Just a trick, and maybe he had looked at him wrong. In fact, Thor breathed out…amusement? His lip twitched upward, and he shook his head, looking at the ceiling…

 

“I knew he’d never truly die.”

 

Tony swallowed, “You believe me?”

 

“How could I not?” Thor scoffed, “My brother has a talent for dying, but _not_ actually doing so.”

 

Tony supposed…if Peter was constantly dying and coming back to life, he probably would have been a little more accepting of the entire thing. Suddenly, he was glad he had told Thor instead of anyone else because this had made things easier. And if there was something Tony needed: it was easier. As far as recalling such times, he couldn’t. They weren’t quite within the grasp of someone like him who had chosen ten years ago to fuck up his life completely and invite challenge to Earth’s doorstep.

 

Thor jumped from his chair and slammed a hand on the counter, making Tony jump as he announced, “Come! We must inform the others!”

 

He began to stomp towards the door, turkey forgotten, but Tony flew to his feet, quickly grabbing Thor’s elbow and pulling him back. He spoke shakily, “What? No big-guy, that’s why I came to tell you, not them. They’re gonna think I’m drunk off my ass if we tell them that.”

 

“And what will they think of me?” Thor raised an eyebrow.

 

“That I’ve brainwashed you,” Tony breathed, stepping back and running his hands through his hair, “I think…I think we should keep this between us. Just until we get off-world at least…Okay?”

 

Thor hesitated only briefly. By brief, it was 5.2 seconds at most and Tony was relieved to see a smile spread across Thor’s face. Genuine…and Tony didn’t know if he had seen that, through Thor’s fake optimism, in all the time he had been back. Thor must have been really good at compartmentalizing or something. Tony would have to ask him one day.

 

The god smacked Tony on the shoulder, “Of course.”

 

Tony didn’t know where the new-found glee had come from, but he could only assume it was from the idea that Loki had survived and was going to come back if they could somehow defeat Thanos. Tony didn’t outright say it, or ask, because it felt…well, it felt kind of wrong to ask Thor that when the guy had lost so much, maybe more than any of them. His home was gone, the significant people in his life were gone, and Tony had only collected bits and pieces around the clock, but he didn’t fucking understand how Thor could be in one piece and not out ‘compartmentalizing’ people’s heads by the color of their hair.

 

One thing was for sure: Thor had the best coping skills Tony had ever seen.

 

And another thing: He was so fucking glad he decided to tell Thor and not someone else because it could have been a mess.

 

As far as people go, Asgardians were resilient things. Specifically, emotionally, in all their loss and grief. Tony was tempted to ask Thor if he was alright. But just as he was about to open his mouth and maybe not be a selfish-dickhead, someone appeared at the door of the kitchen. Well, _something,_ Rocket the Raccoon, hands on his hips, face set in a stone.

 

“Alright idiots,” Rocket announced, “Time to bounce.”

 

Tony’s back went rigid, “What?”

 

Raccoon rolled his eyes, “You deaf? Time to bounce, Pretty-Boy. Robo-Chick just finished putting in the coordinates for the planet and I did the routine check. Should be there in about six hours if our jumper doesn’t malfunction and kill all of us in a fireball.”

 

Well…that sounded promising.

 

Thor clapped his hands together, looking a lot like a child, “Alright! Let us depart for battle!”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tony held up his hands, “Do the others know we’re leaving so quickly? We haven’t exactly come up with a game plan and all we have is _the Red Queen_ …I haven’t even completely finished repairing my nanobots yet.”

 

Rocket rolled his eyes, “Well, it was the bearded guy’s idea to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

 

Tony gritted his teeth. Of course, Rogers. Of course, he would want to jump through his ass and just go, because that was what super-soldiers who carried their ‘weapons’ around in their fists did. Tony gritted his teeth, “Right…so you’re saying I’m going to have to off him before the big fight.”

 

“I don’t think he’s saying that,” Thor spoke, eyes moving back and forth between Rocket and Tony.

 

“Oh, he’s saying it,” Tony hissed, moving to the door and shoving past the raccoon, getting a fuzzy punch in the side in response, but it barely slowed him down.

 

Tony didn’t know where he was going exactly. He just kind of assumed they would be in the lab, because that was where _the Red Queen_ was and if they were getting ready to go, they would more than likely be in the process of packing everything up. Tony rounded corner after corner, nearly knocking a woman with a pile of sheets in her hands down in the process, but all was well when he steadied her.

 

The thing was, Tony wasn’t entirely sure what he was so angry about. Maybe because he had gone through all of the trouble of only telling Thor about the mirror thing and yet people were still making decisions without him like he was incapable of contributing to the solution and giving opinions and shit. Honestly, he had disassociated. He was outside of his body, like he was looking in at his angry scowl from above.

 

He felt kind of bad but not really.

 

He could see through the window into the lab before he actually entered and the only people in there were Steve and Bruce, but honestly, Steve was the only person he needed to talk to. Tony couldn’t decide if he wanted to go in screaming, or if that would have been too dramatic, and even in his state of anger he could still respect the theatrics of everything.

 

So he threw the door open and he said sharply, “So, heard from the trash-rodent that we’re taking off.”

 

Bruce and Steve’s heads snapped up. Steve was holding a small object between his fingers that Tony recognized as the remote for _the Red Queen_. Tony approached and snatched it from his hand, but Steve, in his defense, gave it up rather easily. Tony stepped back, like a child taking a toy out of anger, and wasn’t that what it was? Tony and Bruce had built it after all and Bruce was providing no moral support.

 

“Tony,” Bruce started softly, but Tony simply held up a finger to silence him, eyes remaining on Steve’s _still_ unshaven face.

 

Steve cleared his throat and replied, “We were going to tell you…you didn’t give us time – “

 

“Didn’t give you time,” Tony huffed, folding his hands behind his back, “You know I’ve heard that a lot over the years while running a company. It’s peoples’ favorite excuse. Here’s the thing: if there was time for someone _else_ to tell me, there was time for _you_ to do it too. And I didn’t appreciate hearing this new ‘assignment’ from a talking raccoon. Because now I feel like I’m in a fever dream, which isn’t new but it’s pissing me off ‘cause I kind of feel like I should have been involved in this decision-making process.”

 

Steve blinked, “You were involved, you gave Nebula orders to find the planet – “

 

“And I said we’d come up with a plan of attack,” Tony growled, “What, you wanna do that when we get to the planet or something so Thanos can surprise us and kick our asses again?”

 

Steve shook his head, “You’re being ridiculous. And you look – “

 

“Don’t say awful,” Tony ground out, “My beautiful fiancée and best friend have both been saying that to me for several days now and I’m starting to think no one knows what common decency is. When someone looks ugly, you ignore it, and when you’re making battle plans, you involve said person, got it?”

 

Cap blinked. Over and over again and Tony didn’t know where the speech was going. A part of him knew they had to go as soon as possible. But the other part was still drifting back to his conversation with Pepper. To the pain in her eyes…To having to leave her alone there in Wakanda, and sure she would have the Queen Mother who had apparently taken to opening up to her about past losses but…He didn’t want to _go_. And space was so…so not where he wanted to be.

 

He had never been interested in space travel, for that very reason, but it made him want to invent something that could just fucking teleport them to where they needed to be.

 

To his surprise, Steve nodded stiffly and relented, “Alright…I’m sorry.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at Bruce. Bruce held up his hands in silent surrender as Tony questioned, “What?”

 

“I wasn’t involved,” Bruce muttered, “I try to stay out of the drama…it stresses me out and we all know how that can be detrimental.”

 

…

 

The boy was not sleeping.

 

Loki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit irritated with Peter. He had specifically explained how they needed to rest if they had even the slightest chance at taking on Thanos. The question of whether or not Thanos had his gauntlet was still up in the air, but even so, they would need to be ready. They would have to fight and fighting took energy, energy that an exhausted child would not have.

 

The god was lying on the sofa, and he looked over, just to see Peter in front of the fire place, where he typically laid himself, wrapped in all of his blankets with a book. Something stupid about giant peaches, and Loki had yet to understand why the boy created such silly little children’s stories and nothing with true meaning. They were always stupid picture books meant for children much smaller than himself.

 

Peter turned a page, the book pulled close to his face and Loki snapped, “Boy.”

 

His head snapped up in Loki’s direction, and without warning, he fell over in a heap of blankets onto his side, covering his head and face, as if to pretend he had been asleep this entire time. Loki glared, pushing himself to his elbows as he continued, “Do you think I am dense?”

 

Peter slowly uncovered his face, “No, Mister Loki.”

 

“Alright then,” Loki sat up fully, “Why are you awake?”

 

The child sighed deeply before rolling onto his side and burying his face so deeply into the blankets that Loki could barely hear him speak, “Because…I can’t sleep if we gotta fight.”

 

“And you cannot fight if you haven’t slept,” Loki scolded, “You do realize we are going to have to battle the titan that wiped out half of the universe, correct?”

 

Peter laughed, but it was almost bitter, “Right! How could I forget!?”

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

“I can’t!” Peter argued, “I-I’m _nervous_.”

 

Loki’s eyes squinted, mouth drawing in what was meant to be judgement, but he figured it wasn’t, more so a grimace. Instead he waved his hand, and the book Peter had been reading disappeared into thin air, a spark of green carrying it away. Peter’s jaw dropped, and he sat up, letting out a disgruntled shout.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Sleep,” Loki ordered, “I will not say it again. I won’t have you being dead weight.”

 

“Ughhhhh,” Peter plopped back harshly onto his back. Loki’s brows furrowed at the action. He had never seen a teenager act so…petulant. Clearly, the boy was tired, and Loki just didn’t understand why he wouldn’t go to sleep. It was like dealing with an infant, and Loki shook his head, lying back on the sofa. He shut his eyes, but it felt like, as soon as he did, Peter was speaking again from his place on the floor.

 

“Mister Loki?”

 

Loki ignored him, keeping his eyes shut until Peter tried again, “Um…M-Mister – “

 

“What?” Loki growled, eyes still closed. He heard the boy shifting a bit across the room, and he almost yelled when it took the boy so long to answer because hel, he wanted to sleep too. And he couldn’t do that if he was worrying the child wasn’t getting adequate rest to be of any help in the fight against Thanos.

 

He didn’t need to shout however, because eventually Peter whispered, “I uh…I wanted to ask you something. I wanted to ask you if…well, if _you’re_ nervous?”

 

“I do not get nervous.”

 

“Oh c’mon, everyone gets nervous.”

 

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squishing. Every wrinkle on his face was accented with deep dread, and he didn’t know what to tell a child. He knew it should have been something reassuring, he wasn’t ignorant, his mother had been rather good at it growing up. But Frigga had been a mother and Loki was not, and he didn’t know how to reach into the depths of her teachings. It was too hard, more often than not, to think about her at all. She felt like a shard of glass in his mirror, something gleaming that invited him, but cut when he got too close.

 

_“Your father – “_

_“He is not my father!”_

_“Then am I not your mother?”_

_“You’re not.”_

_“You’re always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.”_

She could see right through him…much like the child was able to do on many occasions. Loki had thought the boy was too much like Thor, but maybe he was wrong, the boy was too much like Frigga. Loki let out a sound of defeat and muttered, “There are nerves, but they are mild. There is no use in fretting. If you sleep…you will forget for the moment.”

 

 Peter was quiet before he whispered, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sometimes…sometimes I dream about my dad. That I’m back home with him and stuff. I really, really hope it doesn’t just stay a dream…you know what I mean?”

 

“Yes,” Loki confirmed, “I know.”

 

Peter hummed quietly, “Sweet dreams, Mister Loki.”

 

Loki said nothing. Maybe he had dozed off, but he couldn’t be sure. He could only see his mother’s face.

 

…

 

Tony was _not_ looking at his future widow while preparing to go off to war, because that would have been a stupid movie trope and Tony was _not_ a stupid movie trope.

 

Sometimes his life was kind of like reading a tragic book of ‘how can everything possibly go wrong’, but it was just easier for him to pretend it was all his fault and not someone shitting on his existence completely. Like looking into Pepper’s sad, exhausted eyes, and thinking ‘Yeah, this is my fault. I’m the reason she looks like this’. Self-loathing was more of a survival technique, not an actual fault.

 

The ramp to the ship was down. Everyone was moving, slowly, hesitantly, besides the Raccoon and Thor who seemed too eager to depart, too optimistic. What Tony had once admired was becoming a downfall of frustration, because Pepper was holding onto his sleeve like he was about to disappear forever, and he wanted to tell her he wasn’t. But he was, maybe. The Queen Mother and Shuri stood a few feet away, and Tony wasn’t sure if they had come to see them off or if they were there for Pepper, solely, because she had somehow been adopted into their ranks of people left behind by unreliable men.

 

Pepper hadn’t said anything. Not since their conversation in the bathroom earlier. She was…she was pale and Tony had never seen her like this. She was the strong one out of the two of them, but clearly it was all taking its toll on her and he didn’t know why he expected so much out of her when that wasn’t necessarily fair. She was chewing her lower lip, but her shoulders were as high as ever, her chin held up.

 

She looked injured, but unfaltering.

 

Her entire existence wasn’t about being strong, it was around dealing with things that hurt her. Tony often forgot that, because he didn’t like to think that he had done so poorly with dealing with things that it had somehow given her second hand pain, but that was the truth. This was proof of that, while her fingers found his cheek and she was shaking.

 

Tony breathed, “I’m so sorry.”

 

It was the first thing he had said to her. The first thing either had said. She looked down, at his chest, then back up again into his face, “I know you are. I’m…well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still angry, but I _do_ understand. You have to believe that I do.”

 

He didn’t always understand her, but that was what was so wonderful. Because he didn’t get her like he got so many others, but she got him, and it was…like science. It wouldn’t been magic, but magic wasn’t so fun of an idea anymore. Science was solid, it was there, concrete. He could see it, and he could see her. But…in theory if it had been magic, that’s what she would have been. He had never deserved her, just as he had never deserved Peter.

 

“I believe it,” Tony laughed weakly, “And I want you to believe that I’m going to come back…But if I don’t…”

 

He knew it might have been wrong. Tony just did the wrong thing sometimes, but he needed to say it before he went away, or else he would think about it forever and into the void. Her face twisted and she shook her head and opened her mouth but Tony interrupted, “Honey…just let me say it.”

 

Her mouth shut and he continued, “If I don’t come back…I know it’d be stupid for me to say don’t be hurt or upset, because I know you’re hurting but I need you to get that this… _this_ is just a part of the journey. And we’ve gotta get there, or at least risk getting there for things to ever get better.”

 

Tony paused, “Part of the journey is the end.”

 

Pepper breathed, slow and steady, but her eyes were tearing up and Tony didn’t look away because he had to see her, even if it was her crying, he had to see her before he went away. This had to be what he saw. She shot forward, kissed him hard, and when she pulled away his mouth tasted like tears. She ordered, voice cracking, “Come back. Don’t just try, do it.”

 

And then she stepped away, and the Queen Mother put a hand on her shoulder. The woman gave Tony a small smile, and Tony wasn’t sure if they had really had an actual conversation before, but she reassured, “She will be here with us…when you succeed and return.”

 

Shuri pointed a finger at him, “And I want a full report on how well _the Red Queen_ performs. No excuses…I _am_ royalty, after all. Just because you’re American doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen to me.”

 

Tony nodded, forced himself to return their smiles, but Pepper wasn’t smiling. She was shaking, but Tony knew if he didn’t go then…he might never leave. And then he might never get Peter back and might never defeat Thanos.

 

Being a movie trope sucked so much more in the real world. There were not directors…only himself.

…

 

Mister Loki had _a lot_ of knives.

 

Peter entered the sitting room, after slipping into his suit. It had been some time since he had put the iron-spider suit on and it felt rather odd as compared to his more comfortable clothes that Loki had provided him with. He rolled his wrists, testing his webshooters and there was still no Karen, but that was fine. He would need all of his focus if he was going to survive a throw down with Thanos, even if they were in the Soul World.

 

The moment he entered, Loki had placed three separate blades in his waist band. They seemed to appear out of thin air and Peter wondered if illusions could really cause harm. Even though he had been in the Soul Stone for some time…there were still concepts that were lost to him and he was tempted to insist on an explanation, but it just wasn’t the time.

 

Loki didn’t look at him, and it was as if he read his mind as he spoke, “Despite us being in the stone, we are still vulnerable to pain. Which means Thanos is as well.”

 

Peter went to nod his head in agreement, but Loki’s head turned in his direction and he approached with long strides. He stopped in front of Peter and grabbed his face harshly, making Peter cringe slightly in pain. It wasn’t, seemingly, out of comfort or some kind of care. It felt like insistence, a demand to be heard in the mind of a supposed child. Which Peter was _not_.

 

“Listen to me,” Loki ordered, and Peter felt like his cheeks were bruising, “You mustn’t let him put his hands on you. As I said before, he will not hesitate to crush you under his grip.”

 

Peter blinked several times, “Yes sir.”

 

Loki released him and moved away. Peter cleared his throat and called after Loki who had already begun to walk towards the exit of the sitting room, “Mister Loki?”

 

The god turned, and Peter continued, “We can do this. We can go home, a-and you can get back to your brother and I can get back to my dad. We’re going to be okay.”

 

Something…Something distant flashed across Loki’s face. The kind of stare Peter’s father got when he knew something Peter didn’t know. It was a stare Peter had become accustomed to seeing when he was younger, but it had been some time since he was forced to endure it again. His heart skipped a beat, anxiety pulsating. Loki cleared his throat and looked at the ground a moment before he shook his head.

 

“My brother and I never got along often…There isn’t much I wish to go back to.”

 

It felt like a lie. Something to placate. Loki turned and began to walk out into the hall and Peter trotted behind him, struggling to catch up. He wanted to ask if Loki was lying, but instead he insisted confidently, “Then you can come back with me. You helped me, I’m sure my dad will understand and maybe you can stay with us or at the Compound.”

 

Loki scoffed, barely glancing at him as he continued towards the mirror, “Your father would have me dead.”

 

“No,” Peter frowned, “He wouldn’t. You’re my friend, and he wouldn’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let him.”

 

The two of them stopped in front of the humming object. Loki turned to face him, and though Peter wasn’t always good at reading Loki, he could read the confusion that was there. Peter wondered if he needed to repeat himself, but Loki appeared…rather capable of understanding. But he didn’t, and Peter couldn’t grasp what kind of road block had been presented between the two of them.

 

Loki muttered, “You are so strange…”

 

Peter’s frown deepened. It was almost as if, no matter how hard Peter tried, nothing ever reached the god. Not in the way he wished, anyway. The blockade was always there, always thriving, and Peter wanted so badly to push past it but sometimes it seemed Loki was just intent on being miserable. He seemed less like Max, the King of the Wild Things and more like the Earthworm from _James and the Giant Peach_.

 

_“Poor Earthworm,” the Ladybird said, whispering in James' ear. “He loves to make everything into a disaster. He hates to be happy. He is only happy when he is gloomy.”_

Maybe it was fitting for the God of Mischief.

 

But Peter was still settled on it: Loki had been a friend to him…even if he had a weird way of showing it.

 

Peter wished to say something, before they entered. He knew being swallowed up, there was a chance they wouldn’t ever come back. That neither of them would survive and maybe his father wouldn’t even be an issue then, because he would cease to exist, even within the Soul Stone. Which was…morbid. Realistically speaking, it was true though. It made sense to Peter at least…it made sense in a distorted sort of way.

 

He wasn’t so scared to die anymore. The thought of staying in the stone forever frightened him more.

 

“Mister Loki,” Peter muttered softly.

 

Loki looked at him expectantly and Peter went on, “Do you think…Do you think if he kills us, it’ll hurt?”

 

“I do not know,” Loki sighed, “I have died many times…each time was different. I assume, if it happens again, then it will be something new.”

 

That wasn’t very comforting, but Peter didn’t know what he expected. Life had a way of handing him things that he didn’t know what to do with and Loki and his words were one of those things. Peter faced the mirror, eyeing Loki sideways, just a bit…Mouth feeling heavy, and his body like iron. He was not afraid, but he was expectant.

 

Loki eyed him, and Peter shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

“It’s hard to be brave sometimes.”

 

Loki blinked, “There is no bravery, Peter. Only those who know what they can handle and those who do not.”

 

Peter didn’t necessarily agree, but he questioned anyway, “Ready?”

 

“No,” Loki replied, “But I supposed I never will be.”

 

Peter only quirked a small smile, before stepping into the mirror and he felt Loki follow in after him. The traveling portion, well, it had become second nature in a way. Peter had learned the feeling like a second language, pulsing through his body and singing to him in words that he didn’t know, but he felt. And when they surfaced, surrounded by the familiar orange glow of the world that was Gamora’s…Peter did not feel fear.

 

He felt courage. And that was how he knew Loki was wrong. Because a part of him knew he couldn’t handle it…but the feeling was overwhelming.

 

In the distance, under the structure, Peter saw Gamora’s tiny figure…

 

But she was not alone.

 

Thanos…giant and purple as always turned to face him and Loki, mouth drawn into a line as if he knew…he knew they were coming…

 

Gamora’s face looked horrified.

 

“Well,” Thanos’ voice boomed over the emptiness, “If it isn’t my pets, escaped from their cage.”

 

…

 

Tony didn’t like space.

 

In the two weeks it took to get back from Titan in Nebula’s damaged spaceship, he had grown to absolutely loathe it. Not just because it had always been one of his worst fears, but because it was so very empty. It felt obtuse, and it wasn’t right, but he was kind of grateful Rocket the Raccoon had managed to fix the damage when they had gone to retrieve Squidward’s body because it meant what would have been a several week journey would only be a few hours at their speed.

 

That was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it meant Tony wouldn’t have time to dread their coming battle, but a curse because it meant they didn’t have much time at all to plan or prepare. Tony thought back…and he wondered if maybe they shouldn’t have jumped into action so quickly…but then again the longer they waited the longer they risked Thanos moving or the damage becoming irreversible and that in itself was…terrifying.

 

A worse mess than had seemed impossible.

 

Tony sat, far in the corner away from his ‘friends’. Bruce was pacing madly, and Tony wondered if it had been best to leave him at home. After all, the Hulk hadn’t exactly been reliable. Bruce had yet to figure out what the hell was going on with that and Tony worried that if it came down to it…Bruce’s abilities wouldn’t arise, and they would drown in the chaos. That he might get hurt. But the hope was there…

 

His contemplation was a disease. He missed Pepper, already, and he wished to be with her. To be away from there, to be doing anything else, but if this was the only way to get Peter back, then it had to be that way. The suffering was ice in his veins, and he was on the verge of freaking out when Nat plopped down beside him.

 

Tony was tempted to tell her to go bother Clint or Steve or Bruce or Rhodey. Even Thor or the Raccoon or Nebula. Anyone other than him. Mostly because he was still somewhat bitter over what she had said about his ‘thunder’ or whatever. But he figured he should conserve his energy, especially if he was about to get his ass handed to him by Thanos, again, when his wound hadn’t even completely finished healing. He instead continued to busy himself with the nanobots, prepping and praying.

 

When he said nothing to her, she broke the quiet between them, “I’m sorry.”

 

That… _That_ was not what he was expecting.

 

Tony’s head whipped in her direction, and she sighed, looking away, “Don’t look at me like that, this is probably a onetime thing but…I’m sorry…I know what I said about us stealing your thunder was kind of out of line…I…I know this can’t be easy for you.”

 

He was quiet. In all fairness…Nat was an asshole sometimes, but then again so was Tony. Nat had, had it engrained in her at an early age though, so Tony didn’t know what his excuse was because his mother had most definitely not been an asshole. So technically speaking, he only had fifty percent of an excuse while Nat had one-hundred percent of an excuse.

 

It might have been one of the only moments Tony ignored percentages, next to Star Lord’s idea about ‘what percentage of him was stupid’.

 

“Well,” Tony hummed, “Nice of you to admit your indecency.”

 

Nat’s apologetic face melted into a mixture of relief and annoyance. She sat a little straighter in her seat and nodded, “I’ll allow that.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his nanobots. Or, at least the blue hologram outlining them. Many had been damaged in the fight with Thanos, and some had yet to be structurally sound. But in the time it took to build _the Red Queen_ , he had split his focus dutifully. They had left so quickly though, and he knew it was important. It was important because they didn’t know when Peter and Loki would attempt to strike Thanos.

 

Actually, no one even knew the attempt would be made except himself and Thor.

 

A part of him wanted to make small talk…like the way things were before the whole Germany thing when she had decided to be a double agent. He really, really wanted to, and to tease and make jokes because it would probably make his overall anxiety stop pounding against his skull. But that wasn’t what was happening…What was happening was he was pretending to be busy and ignored her and everyone else on the ship.

 

He had a God-awful migraine forming and it really wasn’t the time.

 

Tony had fully intended to ignore Nat until she went away, but she spoke before that could be followed through with…

 

“I remember meeting Peter.”

 

Tony’s head shot up at the sound of his son’s name. Like it was a trigger. His fingers stopped working immediately and he swallowed past the lump that seemed to form instantaneously in his throat from even the thought of his small child’s face all those years ago, because Peter had never been that small, he couldn’t believe that. Tony cleared his throat, to get rid of the irritation as he looked back down at his work and tried not to glower in frustration.

 

Nat, if she sensed his distress, ignored it, “I felt bad for the kid at first…honestly, because you were his father and you were acting so crazy because of your reactor sucking the life out of you and everything. But…I grew attached, as do most people…Like with Clint’s kids.”

 

Her focus scanned across the ship where Clint was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Tony followed her gaze and she whispered so quietly Tony could barely hear her, “I don’t know how you two are doing it. But you _need_ to _keep_ doing it.”

 

Tony knew how he was doing it now…he knew it was because he had seen his child in the mirror and that was his hope. That Peter was somewhere in the Soul Stone and they had a chance to get him and everyone else out. That he had a consciousness in there and awareness that Tony couldn’t imagine and he hoped it didn’t hurt.

 

Then Tony knew…he needed to tell them.

 

“Actually,” Tony removed the hologram showing the nanobots, “There’s something I need to tell everyone. Well, Thor and I both kind of have something to share with the class.”

 

Tony wasn’t good at starting stories. Maybe Nat knew this, because the look of sudden worry and uneasiness that flashed across her face held true, and Tony knew off-world they could call him insane but not kick him off the expedition. It was his son after all…of course half the universe was involved, but Peter…Peter was the goal of everything.

 

He had been since that September in 2005.

 

When their teammates started filing into the main room, due to Nat’s request, Thor didn’t look nervous in the slightest. In fact, he stood tall, as if with pride over the thought of Loki returning and sure, Tony didn’t like Loki, but he couldn’t blame the guy for being happy to hear one of his only relatives would be assisting from the Soul Stone.

 

It was the small things, after all.

 

The eight other occupants of the ship stared down at him, five with confusion, one a raccoon with an odd stare, Little-Blue-Peep with her typical glare, and Thor…who was still pridefully smiling. Ready for a battle against Thanos that Tony knew would turn the smile into his battle-ready scowl that Tony had only seen on a few occasions. But right now, this was different. This was a storybook…a fairytale…But Tony prayed they wouldn’t think so.

 

Tony was known for delivering bad news and Clint looked like he had just been woken from his evening old-man nap, so he didn’t look the slightest bit interested in receiving bad news at the moment. He might have been the only one, except Thor, that Tony felt remotely sorry for in the room. Two children… _gone_. _Holy shit_.

 

Really, Tony tried to pretend this was a board meeting and he was ‘breaking it down’ for a group of old men in suits. When he was in his early twenties, running a company that was also run by sixty-year-olds. But he had been so charismatic in those situations, so confident, and now he felt scrutinized and outcasted, and not on purpose, but because he felt like no one understood his pain, even if Clint truly did.

 

Tony leaned back slowly in his chair, relaxing a bit, “So Thor and I have been keeping a little detail under wraps. Mostly because I thought you’d all be assholes about it, but now we’re in space so the only way you can bench me is if you shoot me out of a pod.”

 

Rhodey, always like himself, looked about ready to faint, “Oh shit, what did you do?”

 

“I do a lot of things,” Tony replied, “But this wasn’t…exactly my doing. And just so you all know, if you attack me or something Thor is on my team and he will not hesitate to restrain each and every one of you.”

 

Everyone turned to Thor who blinked and shook his head, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

 

“Anyway,” Tony drew the attention back to himself. He wasn’t sure how he was going to go about it exactly, but he knew he wanted to say it quickly…Like ripping off a band-aid. He tapped his fingers on the arm rest, breathing deeply, “We’ve got a bit of an…underhanded play if you will. I was…contacted by someone from inside the Soul Stone who seems to think they can weaken Thanos enough for us to have a fighting chance.”

 

No one said anything. Yet, no scrutinizing, but now there was shock. Steve was the first to step forward, face molding, and Tony couldn’t tell if it was horror or relief or shock, but he questioned Tony quietly, “Someone…Someone from the Soul Stone contacted you?”

 

“Yep,” Tony replied, “Crazy stuff, I know.”

 

Rocket the Raccoon waved his arms madly, “Wait, wait, wait! Someone called _you_? You’re fucking kidding me, I know someone didn’t use their only Soul Stone phone call to contact the most emotionally screwed person on this squad – “

 

“Hey, trash-rodent, shut up,” Tony pointed his index finger at him, “Before I shove _you_ in a pod. I’m not above animal cruelty against pests.”

 

The raccoon lunged, but Thor grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping him. Nebula, stepping in front of Rocket and causing him to disappear from view, asked sharply, “Who contacted you and how?”

 

This was where things would get fantastic and unbelievable and Tony sighed, “It was…It was Peter…and he contacted me through a mirror with…” He gestured to Thor, “Loki’s help.”

 

“Loki!?” Bruce shouted, “Loki helped Peter contact you through the Soul Stone?”

 

Tony nodded, “Yep…and he’s apparently going to help Peter weaken Thanos for us.”

 

There was something relieving in not being looked at like he was insane. He had just assumed…with everything going on a mental breakdown was called for. It had been on the horizon and he had, had a few, but he wasn’t sure if the pity he was receiving was any better. Clint on the other hand, shifted, running a hand through his hair and he was the first to really say something that had been on Tony’s mind, “When is this little show down going to happen?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Tony answered, “Peter made it sound imminent. So, the sooner we get there the better, because if they do decide to strike and we take too long to arrive, Thanos might have time to scrape himself back together. He said that the Gamora person that Quill was looking for told them that they could weaken Thanos there.”

 

Nebula all but surged forward at the mention of Gamora’s name as she questioned, “Gamora is with him?”

 

“Apparently,” Tony nodded.

 

Nebula’s expression shifted. She stepped back, eyes moving to the ceiling and Tony wondered if she was capable of crying, because it looked like she wanted to. Nat was leaning forward in her chair, elbows on her knees and she cleared her throat, “Will they be able to do it though? Are they strong enough?”

 

“If Loki was capable of sending Starkson through the mirror, then I believe they will be able to at least strike him if they are working together,” Thor answered for him, “It’s clear he still has access to his abilities where he is.”

 

_Where he is_. Where he was, was where Peter was and that was something Tony kept wondering about. He had hoped…the Soul Stone would be a painless experience. A painless world. Somewhere that Peter would not suffer. But yet he was conscious and away and Tony was aware there were things he had never even begun to wonder about yet.

 

Tony turned in the chair, looking out the window where the stars were, the stars he despised so much, because they held a threat he didn’t appreciate. A threat that made him more angry than afraid. He thought of Titan. There were no stars, only dust, and then the ash of his son, the guardians, and Doctor Strange.

 

_“We’re in the endgame now.”_

Tony whispered, “This is the endgame, people. We’ve got all we’re going to get…let’s make it work.”


	7. James and the Giant Peach: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of them were working together, but nothing was getting done. He was slipping fast, feet coming to a halt, and Tony couldn’t breathe, and this was not the time nor place for a panic attack, but it was rising when he saw both Nat and Clint get thrown into the lake behind them, both smacking into the water harshly. Nebula was swinging blades at Thanos, but he fought back, though slower than Tony had ever seen him, clearly weakened, but it wasn’t enough. Nebula was speaking to him, maybe taunting, or he was taunting her, and Thanos threw a whole fucking tree at Rocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've got the big fight in this chapter (well, one of the big fights hehehe)  
> I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think! You've all been so lovely with your feedback, I love you guys. ❤

“A child and a pretend god…How fitting.”

 

Thanos stepped down from the structure in the orange world. Gamora didn’t move, just continued to stand, small, her hands folded in a way Peter knew was terror as the purple giant made his way towards him and Loki. Peter didn’t know what to make of the statement, but he didn’t know what to make of much of anything because his heart was hammering so ruthlessly in his chest and he couldn’t seem to draw in any air to make it better.

 

The thing was…When he had faced Thanos the first time…things had still seemed like a game then. Like a field trip to another planet, and his dad had been with him. He hadn’t been so scared, even though he knew it was serious, he hadn’t really…He hadn’t really taken the time to grasp the gravity of the situation and his father had been right. He didn’t know. But in that moment, standing in front of Thanos, he felt undeniably afraid.

 

Like he had told Loki…it was hard to be brave.

 

Maybe Loki had been right, bravery wasn’t real.

 

Thanos continued his strides towards them until he stopped, still several feet away. Keeping enough distance for Peter’s heart to be calm. His eyes flickered to Thanos’ hand, not seeing the gauntlet and his brows furrowed. Right…so no gauntlet. That was good…but weird and Peter thought maybe he didn’t need it to travel to the Soul World. Maybe one only needed the Soul Stone to do so. Peter looked back at Gamora, as if silently asking for something, his mind going to the time she had turned Thanos to bricks and a part of him hoped she could maybe do it again–

 

“Do not look to her for guidance, boy,” Thanos ordered and Peter’s focus returned to the titan, “What you wish from her will do no good. She cannot truly harm me, and neither can the two of you. You’re both souls…Souls that I mercifully allowed to keep their forms.”

 

Peter didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t really spoken to Thanos before, other than when Thanos had called him an insect and the first time he had met Gamora. It was horrifying because here was the ‘big bad’ and Peter, in the scheme of things, was quite small. Not just physically, but if this were a story book, he would be one of the side characters that got killed off relatively early into the fight.

 

Peter cringed when he heard chuckling, lowly, from Loki beside him.

 

The teen looked over, jaw dropping because Thanos did not seem amused by Loki’s laughter in the slightest. The titan actually took another step forward and Peter started to shake his head, cutting towards his throat to make Loki stop, but Loki didn’t seem concerned at all with Peter’s spark of fear. Instead he continued to laugh and bit out, “Merciful? You call sticking us in a pocket for later use merciful? With such an omen above our heads, just waiting for the day you decide to come and force us to do your bidding?”

 

“And was the alternative more appealing?” Thanos questioned, “Floating around in non-existence? Not knowing which way is up or down? It was a comfortable existence that you abandoned, God of Mischief, do not be so righteous. So now you and the boy will suffer for it.”

 

Thanos’ eyes turned to Peter, who swallowed thickly under his frame holding gaze. He felt like vomiting, but he was stiff as a board, unable to move a muscle as his fear wrapped around him over and over again like some sort of constrictor. Thanos held the hard stare, but it shifted more into understanding. More pity. Like Peter was something of a dying creature, a creature that would be dead in moments, or needed to be shot.

 

“You were valiant in the end, child,” Thanos said, “It is a shame you let the god influence you.”

 

Peter knew he shouldn’t have said anything, but he croaked, “I’m the one who influenced him…I found this place…It was me, a-and I’m not a child.”

 

Thanos didn’t looked surprised. Even if it was new information, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead he just breathed deeply and glanced at the ground, almost grimacing like he had just been told relatively bad news. He stepped, but not forward, more to the side. Peter felt a question burning inside of him and he knew it might have been his only opportunity to ask until one of them ended up dead…

 

“Why’d you do it?” Peter whispered, “I-I mean I know _why_. Because you thought the universe was killing itself. But why did you feel like you had the right to make that decision?”

 

It was something he had been wanting to ask for some time. If there was something he hated, it was a person who thought they just had the right to do things. Things that affected and hurt other people and so, so many people were hurt. Not just the people who were snapped, but the people left behind. The mothers, fathers, daughters, and sons, all of them left to mourn and to wish and pray for some kind of return.

 

It wasn’t fair. Thanos was one person…one thing and he shouldn’t have been free to do it.

 

Thanos spoke simply, “Because no one else was going to do it. No one else had the courage needed to get it done.”

 

Courage. Courage. _Courage_ and bravery and Peter was starting to hate the concept. Loki didn’t believe in it, Thanos believed in it too much. He saw his mass murder as bravery and that was almost sickening. Peter gripped his hands into fists and he shook his head, back and forth, setting his jaw hard as he said, “You’re not courageous. You’re not even stupid. You’re self-righteous and you have the worst god-complex I’ve ever seen…You’re…You’re a murderer.”

 

“All things I’ve heard before,” Thanos replied, “Though, I must remind you, you are the offspring of a self-righteous man with a god-complex…And if I had allowed you to grow up, you would have become the exact same thing.”

 

Something…Something in the back of Peter’s head snapped. Like it was a trip-wire and Thanos had stepped on it. Peter’s nanobots covered his face, mask overtaking him and he tried to lunge forward towards the titan. But Loki grabbed his arm, and swung him around so that he was behind the god and in the same motion, he reached into his belt, pulling out one of his blades. Without hesitation, he threw the dagger directly at Thanos.

 

Peter was thrown off balance from Loki grabbing him and he tumbled over into the ground, only to look up in time to see Thanos side step the blade, but not before it skimmed by the side of his cheek. He flinched, only just slightly and Gamora let out a shout as the blade flew by her as well, imbedding itself into one of the columns on the nearby structure.

 

And then…Thanos was running at them.

 

Peter jumped to his feet as Loki pulled out two more blades, holding them in a fighting stance. Peter however didn’t wait for Thanos to get to them, and instead shot out his webbing, latching onto the titan’s shoulders. He yanked forward, trying to send his feet towards him, but Thanos grabbed the end of his webbing, swinging him around and throwing him in the same direction the knife had gone. Peter shouted as he slammed into the column as well before he hit the ground in a heap, groaning and holding his ribcage.

 

He heard footsteps running towards him and Gamora was there, eyes wide and terrified when she kneeled beside him, grabbing onto his forearm and then his wrist to try to heave him up into a sitting position on the steps. He gasped, trying to catch his breath where the wind had been knocked out of him. Shit, he was out of practice.

 

“Up, up, up,” Gamora ordered hurriedly, voice shaking, “Hurry, the Mischievous One will not be able to hold him off on his own.”

 

Peter nodded his head under his mask, looking over across the empty expanse. Thanos was swinging his heavy fists towards Loki who dodged the blows while also stabbing his blades towards the purple giant. Neither were landing hits for a few moments and Peter used the column and Gamora to get to his feet, stumbling only slightly when Thanos’ fist slammed into the side of Loki’s temple, throwing him off balance.

 

The teen rushed down the steps, watching Thanos raise his fist to swing again and Peter shouted, “Hey Teletubby!”

 

Just as he did, Peter shot outward, his webbing making contact with Thanos’ knuckles. Thanos looked over, eyes glowering with irritation and he swung, pulling Peter downward. Peter planted his feet, reeling back and attempting to wrangle Thanos like some kind of bull in a rodeo, but this was nothing like that, not that Peter had been to many rodeos but he thought it was probably much easier than fighting with someone Thanos’ size.

 

Peter pulled himself inward, sliding towards him, and managing to plant a kick in Thanos’ side just as Loki regained himself from the hit, slicing at Thanos. Thanos stepped back, his knuckles opening when the knife cut into him and he bled and Peter had never seen someone bleed that color before. Thanos grabbed the ankle from the foot that had kicked him and swung him around into the ground, flipping him over. Peter’s back making contact resounding, making a hollow thud across the expanse and he inhaled sharply, trying to get his lungs to inhale.

 

Thanos used a part of Peter’s webbing to wrap around Loki’s wrist that was still trying to cut him, pulling the god’s arm behind his back and shoving him face first into the ground. Peter looked away, struggling to get rid of the stars in his vision and he focus on oxygen, because Loki would have to look out for himself for a minute while Peter did so. It felt like he was drowning, was under water…under and under and under…and the column had hurt much less than being body slammed by a giant fucking titan.

 

Peter grabbed at his chest, rolling onto his side just slightly.

 

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

“You are both made of glass,” Thanos commented, as Peter saw Loki struggling to his feet, “Weak…you’ll be cast out…gone and put away, but you will be _alone_. Is that what you wish for, God of Mischief? To be alone as you were in life? Shunned by everyone and cursed to live in darkness?”

 

Loki turned and growled, hair disheveled and Peter blinked blearily, “What? Like you? The murderer of your own child, for a damned stone? While my father wasn’t perfect…while he put me in a cell…he didn’t murder me. No…that was _you_.”

 

Thanos, before he could answer, looked surprised and Loki pointed at Gamora’s child figure, “And now you keep her soul here as a child because you are sick and alone! Unloved! The only way you can have her close is to force her to be! You are _nothing_!”

 

Thanos responded, causing Peter to flinch at the sound of his booming voice, that had clearly lost it at Loki’s words, all calmness gone, “I am a savior! Soon they will see that what I did was necessary for the very survival of every species!”

 

Loki stumbled to the side, laughing…Weakly…He looked injured, his lip bleeding. Peter struggled to push himself into a sitting position, gasping heavily, and body feeling like it was piled with bags and bags of sand. He wanted to stop Loki…to stop him because they were both trying to catch their breaths, but Loki was _laughing_.

 

Loki smiled…He smiled in a way Peter had never seen him smile.

 

It didn’t look genuine…it looked contorted and evil and wrong.

 

“Stark is more of a savior than you will _ever_ be,” Loki hissed, “And that _terrifies_ you.”

 

Peter barely had time to react to what happened next. Thanos lunged forward, towards him, hand out as if to grab Loki by the throat, a loud scream escaping him, like the rage had built up in such a way that he could not control it any longer. Lightning and air and Peter couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think…He just jumped to his feet, and grabbed the wrist that was raised, trying to drag it away from Loki with only a few feet apart. Only a few seconds to spare.

 

He couldn’t let Loki be murdered again.

 

Not there, in that empty space, where no one was cared about. They were all alone there. Even Gamora, who Peter wanted so desperately to protect. Life was like a burning cage, and he was trapped inside and Peter dug his gloved hands into the giant wrist of the titan, hoping that maybe if he died there, if he died in that inbetween place, it would be saving one last person. Since he could never go back to Queens. Never go patrolling again, ever do what he wanted to do and argue about going to college or becoming a full-time Avenger with his father and Peter screamed too. He screamed because he wanted to save his friend. His friend was Loki…Loki was his _friend_. Maybe someone was cared about then.

 

Peter half expected to be slammed into the ground once more. To hit it hard like every time he had done it, but instead Thanos opted to throw him right into Loki. Both of them hit the ground in a mess of limbs, arms and legs intertangling and struggling and Peter groaned, knowing his ribs had taken a severe beating and he was definitely going to be screwed up after this, if he lived through it. Peter didn’t feel bravery or fear, he felt hurt.

 

He felt Real.

 

Peter pushed himself up slightly, eyes squinting as he looked up at Thanos who was running towards them once more. Sprinting, fist held high and he was going to murder them. Peter had faced a lot of people that had looked like they were going to kill him, but this seemed the most promising, next to Toomes. Peter scrambled, arms and legs flailing as he pushed himself up, looking for something, anything to use and Loki still hadn’t moved from where he was lying on his back, mostly because Peter was still halfway on top of him.

 

Thanos was coming…Running…And Peter looked at the blade held in Loki’s waist band.

 

Peter grabbed the handle, pulling it out and just as he turned, raising the end of the blade outward, Peter’s body facing forward towards the giant…It sheathed itself into Thanos’ chest.

 

There’s something to say about karma. A part of Peter flashed to watching his father’s body be pierced with a blade…and now here was Thanos, under Peter’s hand…a knife burrowed within him. Thanos gasped in surprise, jumping back, pulling the knife out as Peter continued to hold the handle tightly. Loki sat up behind him, arms wrapping around Peter’s middle to pull him back, in case the titan chose to strike. But he didn’t…he just stumbled away, holding his chest and Peter looked over at Gamora who was watching with her hands over her mouth in shock.

 

The blade was stained the same color as Thanos’ cheek…

 

Thanos let out a deep, wet cough, trying to find his footing, but he just kept moving away. Moving and going, into the distance until eventually he fell to his knees, gagging up blood.

 

And when he finally, _finally_ fell over onto his side…He disappeared into a swarm of white moths.

 

Loki’s grip around Peter’s middle remained a few moments before the god finally released him. Peter’s hands went lax, and the blade clattered to the ground, bouncing slightly as Peter fell forward, the mask retracting from his face. Peter coughed, holding his chest as he tried to breathe and breathe, but he couldn’t, because had he really just done it? Had he really just stabbed Thanos?

 

He felt a warmth under his nose again, and it was definitely bleeding, despite not having been struck in the face. Loki grabbed his arm and turned him around, before gripping his chin and inspecting it. Peter croaked quietly, “D-Did we do it?”

 

Loki said nothing, and Peter tasted blood in his mouth as it slid down the back of his throat from the nose bleed. Gamora approached…her tiny voice whispering, “It’s up to them now.”

 

“Yes,” Loki replied, studying Peter, “Your ties to reality are close…We have done our part…”

 

He paused, reaching before he grabbed Peter’s shoulder and squeezed.

 

“You were very brave.”

 

…

 

There are hours. And then there are eternities.

 

A funeral procession would have been less painful. They had told them that burying what was left of Vision had been a small affair and a march and Tony wondered if it had hurt. He had missed it, still floating in space for that two-week time span, but he wondered if he had been there, if he would have thought of Jarvis’ funeral and all the painful things that had come along with that. Jarvis and his old wrinkled face, his sunken in lips, pale skin.

 

It hadn’t been a bad way to go: deep in his sleep.

 

There were only so many familiar funeral processions in Tony’s mind, and none had amounted to the anxieties of that ship ride to the nameless planet. He had imagined a waste land, even though Nebula had said it was nice and peaceful. Because anything that had to be associated with Thanos was waste. Barren and painful and full of malice. This place was to be no different, at least Tony assumed. A globe of sand or ocean.

 

This was not the case.

 

As that funeral procession drew to an end, and in the distance a large sphere appeared, framed by the darkness of space and all of its stars…Tony saw the planet. It was green, and blue, and all of the colors of life and Tony, quite frankly, was amazed. He was amazed that something like it existed, because he had always viewed planets as nonviable. Planets like Titan or…or Mars for fuck’s sake. But this was not true…it was a hub of life, Tony could tell from the distance, it was _beautiful_. Untouched. Tony couldn’t imagine if Earth had shared the same sort of life, what it would look like. Would it be bluer? Definitely less abused. Less polluted. Less _ruined_.

 

Tony hated space, but he knew there was beauty in it too.

 

He hated stars, but he knew of their purpose.

 

He hated the blackness, the emptiness, the sense of being lost with no way home…but it wasn’t like that for everyone. People like Nebula and the Raccoon…Even Quill when he had been alive, those people lived in this sort of world. They sailed through it, and he was sort of jealous that they didn’t have to live with the burden, the terror, the life eating agony of being petrified of the expanse above his head.

 

Now he was in that expanse. He was breathing filtered oxygen with eight other people/rodent. Tony pressed against the glass, staring out with awe as Rhodey stood beside him, eyes wide and absolutely not happy to be where they were. Rhodey blinked rapidly and muttered under his breath, “This sucks.”

 

“Not impressed?” Clint questioned from behind them.

 

“Oh, I’m impressed,” Rhodey answered, “I’m just about to shit my pants.”

 

Tony muttered absentmindedly, “That makes two of us…”

 

He turned around, looking at Nebula who was guiding the ship. He all but begged, “Please tell me this is going to have a smooth landing. I don’t think my heart can take another touch down like I experienced in the giant-floating-donut.”

 

Nebula nodded, “The landing will be fine. The planet’s gravitational pull is similar to that of your planet, and its axis is on balance.”

 

Awesome. Already an improvement from Titan. They would be battling on a planet that didn’t feel like they were going to float away from. Tony was so tired of feeling like he was going to float away. He had felt like that since his child had done so in his arms. He turned back towards the window, but not for long as Nebula continued, “But…you will want to strap in. All of you. While it may be a smoother landing, it will still be…rough.”

 

“That’s reassuring,” Rocket rolled his eyes, but he was ultimately the first to strap himself down. Everyone else moved in unison, Tony giving Rhodey a slight glance because his friend looked about ready to vomit. Tony strapped himself down between Bruce and Steve, Steve appearing as stoic as ever, but Tony supposed this wasn’t Cap’s first encounter with ‘crashing’, even if they weren’t and Tony resisted the urge to make a joke about Capsicle.

 

An odd silence befell the group. Maybe because they were all trying to give Nebula thinking room and they didn’t want to risk distracting her and causing anything to go wrong. No one wanted to be the person that caused the Avengers to crash land.

 

Of course Thor broke the silence, patting the metal wall, “Into battle!”

 

“Not yet,” Clint grunted, “How are you excited? This isn’t exciting.”

 

“You must raise morale before a fight,” Thor stated confidently, “It helps.”

 

Clint shook his head, “Don’t believe you.”

 

Thor frowned, looking confused. Tony scoffed, shaking his head back and forth, and he looked at Cap, questioning, “You got any super-soldier-before-battle-morale-raisers?”

 

It was jokingly. Maybe the first joking thing he had said to Cap without venom behind it since the big fight. But…the thing was, they were all about to face Thanos together. Bitterness needed to be set aside, at least for a little while if they were going to be successful in doing this. If they were going to beat Thanos, they had to be a team, and while that seemed easy when it came to Rhodey, Thor, Bruce, Clint, and even the Raccoon and Little-Blue-Peep, it felt a bit harder with Steve and Nat. Maybe because their wounds had cut him so deeply…Their words had…And sure, Clint had been on the opposite team too, but the exchanges had been so brief, he hadn’t seen the true bitterness.

 

Cap seemed a bit…surprised by the question. Not the question itself, but the tone and its lack of heaviness and Tony saw the surprise turn to a genuine, hesitant smile, “They usually just threw us in the deep end, no heart felt speeches or battle cries.”

 

“Right,” Tony hummed, “All-American-Boys, too good to act happy. Resident-Sunshine over there though isn’t. That’s why he’ll outlive all of us.”

 

Not just because he was a god.

 

Nebula’s voice cut in, “Quiet. I need to focus.”

 

Everyone’s mouth shut.

 

That was when the ‘turbulence’ started.

 

Tony had, had a lot of rough landings in his day and a lot of even rougher plane rides. This wasn’t a plane, it wasn’t even the flying donut, so there was no familiarity, other than the sensation of going downward. Not so rapidly, not so out of control, but he could see Nebula trying to keep it that way. Trying to keep them from crashing down and burning up and maybe Rocket’s comment about becoming a fireball wasn’t such a faraway thing anymore.

 

It wasn’t that Tony expected the worst, it was just, he didn’t expect anything great. They were going down and he couldn’t tell if everything was alright, or if it wasn’t and that sort of…terrified him to no end.

 

He was a control freak. So Nebula landing the ship was not boding well with him. He had always been that way, and for some reason his thoughts shifted to how that had filtered into parenting Peter. Always controlling, but it was because he knew what his mistakes had done to him and he couldn’t let Peter make those mistakes and sometimes that meant controlling the world around the boy. Wanting to control where he went to school, his friends, whether or not he became a vigilante, but that had been something out of his control, which birthed so many versions of the same suit in the process.

 

Tony felt them enter the thermosphere, then the mesosphere, followed by the stratosphere. It felt like they were going too fast for a comfortable landing anyway, and Tony was proven correctly when the ground started coming faster and faster. He looked around, and everyone was bracing, and Rhodey really did look like he was going to shit his pants and maybe Bruce would actually Hulk out there on the ship. Tony looked at Nebula before he leaned forward, but was barely able to do so, “Uh…Blue-Peep – “

 

“Quiet Stark,” She ordered, tugging the controls.

 

It felt a lot like the plane crash with Coulson and Agent May. So long ago, it felt like a dream, but instead it was a mix of the dream-memories, as Peter had called them, and still called them. The same shedding of hair and teeth arrived, when they made contact, but true to Nebula’s word, despite the jolt, it was not nearly as violent as the landing of the donut or the plane crash in 2005. They hit, everyone shouted in surprise, they jolted and Tony felt like his seatbelt was going to strangle him.

 

There was the sound of scraping metal and dirt flew up onto the glass as they continued to slide a few more feet. Farther and farther until eventually they came to a stop, slowly, and gradually, not nearly as sudden as actually hitting the ground. Everyone fell back into their seats and there was a silence that overtook them as Nebula leaned over the controls, shoulders strained. Tony ran a hand through his hair and he heard Rhodey mutter, “That was supposed to be a gentle landing?”

 

“It was the best you were going to get,” Nebula huffed, unhooking herself as well. Tony looked at Steve who only swallowed thickly and did the same, removing his seatbelt. Everyone moved at once, besides Bruce who Tony patted on the shoulder to bring back to reality. He looked struck, like someone had knocked him unconscious and he had only just woken up. The ramp slid open and everyone made their exit together.

 

The planet was humid.

 

Tony imagined hell would have a similar feeling. As beautiful as it was, he was almost instantly melting in the stickiness. It was one of the reasons why he avoided Florida so much and had always opted to take Peter to Disney Land as a child instead of Disney World. He blinked the thought away, with the memories of a happy kid, because he couldn’t think about it right now, because right now was…right now was life or death.

 

Thanos was supposed to be somewhere on this planet.

 

They were going to have to fight…All together, everyone, and Tony’s heart started to rattle in the same way it did when panic arose, but he fought it down. He had to keep it together, because this was…this was important. They were on an alien planet…right…about to fight Thanos. Which was insane. Insane because Thanos had stabbed him just a few weeks ago and had destroyed half the universe and shit was shitty and Peter was dead –

 

“Tony? Did you hear me?”

 

Steve’s voice cut in, and Tony whirled as a hand was place on his shoulder. He looked up at the other man, and Steve’s eyes were concerned. Tony stepped back, swallowing thickly before he questioned, “What?”

 

“We’re grabbing what we need,” Steve repeated, “I’m gonna carry _the Red Queen_ …Is your suit in…”

 

He pointed at Tony’s chest, where the nanobots rested.

 

Tony nodded his head, “Yeah…I’ve got it. Didn’t get the chance to upgrade Rhodey’s suit though so – “

 

“Already ahead of you,” Rhodey’s voice filtered in and Tony looked over to find his friend already enveloped in it, faceplate lifted. Tony sighed slightly and nodded his head before his eyes scanned over everyone. Rocket was messing around with a gun and ammo, Nebula was messing with her…arm? Thor had his new axe thingy and Nat had _several_ weapons on her hips and Clint adjusted his bow. Steve’s arm was fitted with a new shield that looked kind of shittier than the last one. Even smaller, and _Christ_ , go for the legs, right?

 

Then there was Bruce.

 

Bruce Banner…not the Hulk.

 

He was adjusting something on _the Red Queen_ , that was folded into the form of a backpack, much like the ‘football’ from one of Tony’s earlier models of the Iron Man suit. It would still be heavy, which was why it made sense that Cap would be the one to offer to carry the thing, super strength and all. Bruce had the remote tucked in his left hand while the right slid across the holoscreen, checking the system’s data.

 

“Banner,” Tony said as he approached the doctor. Bruce’s eyes lifted, and he blinked a few times before waving the screen away and standing to full height. Tony continued, sighing deeply, “I think you should stay with the ship, buddy.”

 

Bruce’s jaw dropped, “What?”

 

“You should stay with the ship,” Tony repeated, and everyone suddenly got very quiet. Bruce looked…appalled, but there was an underlying sense of betrayal there and embarrassment. Tony tried to amend, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “The Hulk isn’t exactly being a team player right now and I don’t want…I don’t want…”

 

Bruce finished for him, “For me to be dead weight.”

 

“That’s not,” Tony groaned and continued, “That’s not what I was gonna say. I more so, don’t want you _dead_.”

 

Bruce scoffed, shaking his head and Tony continued, “Listen…I’m _asking_ you to stay here with the ship. Maybe…maybe keep it running in case we need a quick getaway.”

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, “Of course, so I’m the dumb getaway driver.”

 

“You’re the backup,” Tony sighed, “Every good team needs a backup. You’re just…benched for the first half, but you’ll come in handy in the second, alright? Just…please, do this for me, Bruce. Take one for the team.”

 

Bruce looked less angry and more like a petulant child, shoulders sagging, but it was clear he knew Tony was right. He held out the remote and grumbled, “Fine…Of course you’d get to be the one to see _the Red Queen_ at work and I gotta stay here and keep the car running. That’s pretty shitty.”

 

“You’ll thank me later when you’re alive,” Tony replied.

 

 _If_ they were alive…If Tony was alive.

 

He took the remote from Bruce and Bruce explained, “Just…you know, don’t use it until you know for sure you’ve got a clear shot. Then you’ve got to reboot and it’ll take too long and – “

 

“I know,” Tony smiled, but it was weak, it felt heavy, “I helped build it, remember?”

 

Bruce nodded, silencing as well. That put a bit of weight in the world as they finished getting their things together. Because Bruce would be left behind and though Tony felt like he would be safe, there was also the thought of Bruce having to abandon the planet…if all of them became casualties. It was horrifying, and the thoughts were blocked by Tony trying to be optimistic, but it didn’t come naturally and sometimes he wondered how he had managed to produce a child like Peter who was filled to the brim with it. It must have been Mary’s genes.

 

Tony placed the remote in his back pocket and they started to move through the tall grass. It squished under his feet, the ground soggy like the everglades. Marching through a swamp, and he was already sweating through his clothes. It was the miserable sort of thing he expected when facing Thanos. They just could never end up on some comfortable temperate planet, it all had to suck. An uncomfortable end to a horrific story.

 

Steve was a trooper, carrying _the Red Queen_ and Tony didn’t know how Rhodey was surviving in his suit. Thor, Rocket, and Nebula all looked unbothered and Tony knew Nat and Clint would never complain. Being agents, they had probably gone through much more miserable treks in their lives. Clint questioned, as the ship and Bruce disappeared behind them, “So…does anyone know where we’re going?”

 

Tony looked at Nebula with expectance and she didn’t bother to turn back towards them as she said, “I have an idea. It’s not far from here, don’t worry Little-Archer, you won’t have to march very long.”

 

Clint’s eyes narrowed at being called ‘little-archer’ but said nothing more. Nat only elbowed him and smirked sideways. Rocket grunted, adjusting his gun on his tiny shoulder, “So you mean to tell me Thanos had a favorite spot here or something? What, he liked watching the sunset?”

 

“Yes,” Nebula replied simply.

 

Rocket’s head yanked back, and he blinked, “What the shit?”

 

“Hm,” Thor hummed, “So, mass-murderers appreciate the beauty of nature?”

 

Tony shook his head, but said nothing. Thanos seemed to be the kind of asshole who only appreciated the beauty of nature. Nothing else. Tony had always been pissed off by people like that. The people they scoffed at technical advancements like they were somehow the bane of society’s existence. And while some technological advancements had harmed the world, others did not. Clean energy did not. The human race existed, and sure, they hurt their planet, but murdering half a species for the sake of it was just…wrong. There was no way to go around it.

 

Thanos couldn’t see past that.

 

Tony had always been sort of confused about what he was doing. When they were either saving the planet or destroying it. He couldn’t tell the difference, but he knew Thanos’ method was wrong and extreme and sure Ultron had happened. But Tony knew…he knew he had been wrong and he lived with those mistakes every day of his life. Every time he looked at Peter and thought about how he had almost gotten his kid killed, and then ultimately had done so when it had come to Thanos.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling dampness. They really were a weird group, marching around in the greenery. He wanted to ask Nebula why she didn’t park closer, like they had gone to Wal-Mart or something. Tony Stark didn’t shop at Wal-Mart, but it was easier to pretend he was stuck somewhere in Florida than on an entirely different planet. Like he was a plane ride from Malibu, where his favorite house had been destroyed, but in those dreams, it had never been destroyed because he had never been stupid enough to announce his address to the entire world.

 

They allowed Nebula to lead, since she apparently ‘knew’ where she was going. Eventually they got out of the muddy ground onto sturdier dirt. It was rich, the plants bright and the sky beaming down. Under normal circumstances, Tony might have been fascinated, but not now. Not when everything was teetering on the edge of not being okay. He felt Rhodey move closer to him, taller because of the suit. Tony supposed he should try to put his on too, but the nanobots were still struggling, and he wasn’t completely positive they were going to hold up, so he didn’t want to use them until absolutely necessary. He wished they had taken more time…had waited longer, but waiting had consequences, though he didn’t know if they were any worse than not waiting.

 

Rhodey questioned, quietly enough not to be heard, “You alright?”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, top notch, dandy. Why?”

 

“Well just…” Rhodey glanced away, “Last time you fought Thanos – “

 

“I got my ass handed to me?” Tony finished for him, “I remember. Stab wound still hasn’t closed all the way actually.”

 

Rhodey sighed. He was used to the sarcasm by now, Tony knew, but maybe it wasn’t the best to flaunt around when they were doing their death march together. This was all of them…Well, except Bruce…who was their getaway driver…but they were all together and there was something vaguely ironic about it. Tony’s expression softened a bit and he reassured, soothing the wounds, “I’m fine, Rhodes.”

 

Silence consumed, and Tony wished it hadn’t, but it was time for that deep contemplation. They might die, and he wanted the funeral procession. He wanted to be John Fucking Kennedy, marched down the street and put away. Because if there was something Tony was for sure, it was theatrical. He wanted the riderless horse, the eternal flame. Because at the end…he didn’t know if dead people could care, but he was at the end and he _did_ care.

 

If he did die, he would _maybe_ get to see Peter again. His mother. But if Peter was in the stone could he even reach him?

 

They emerged in a clearing, not entirely large, but big enough for an embankment and a lake. The sun reflected so harshly, Tony had to use his hand to shield his eyes a bit. He didn’t know how long they had been marching, but it was long enough that his feet were sore, and the once-was wound was aching a bit. He was breathing a bit heavier than usual and he didn’t know if the planet had thin air or if it had to do with the fact that his lungs just didn’t work to full capacity since the reactor. His shoes were soaked through, muddy, and he glanced at his teammates, yeah…if they were going to die together, they were going to die teammates.

 

All of them wore a similar expression and it was due to one thing.

 

At the edge of the lake, slumped forward was a giant, familiar form. Armor less, but the stones glimmered, buried in the dirt, hands gripping the muddy bank like a lifeline and the other hand was holding its own chest. Purple and as ugly as ever, but just as terrifying and suddenly Tony didn’t feel like he was there on that planet anymore, he was on Titan. He was being stabbed, he was holding his son, he was crying and gasping because fathers are not meant to bury their children and he didn’t even get to do that because his son had turned to ash under his hands…his hands that were bloody and caked with it and crusted over…

 

He smelled the blood, and smelled the dust…he smelled _death_. Singed skin, and Tony was burning inside of himself, fighting the urge to rush at the figure, but also fighting the same voice that told him to run the other way because this was Death.

 

Being terrified was a lot of nonsense.

 

_Thanos. Thanos. Thanos. Thanos._

The person that had plagued Tony’s nightmares the past several weeks, years really, since New York. He stepped back only slightly as the titan let out a loud, wet cough, using the hand on his chest to cover his mouth and when he pulled it away, it was spotted with blood. Tony felt…confused…but then there was realization. The titan was slumped…coughing up blood and it almost made him seem human and mortal, when he was nothing of the kind, but he was vulnerable and capable of death.

 

Peter had done it, then.

 

He had hurt him.

 

Thanos’ head turned slowly at their arrival, his face perplexed and pained before he understood. Tony could see it on his face. Like pieces were clicking together and Thanos slowly stood to his feet, causing the group to tense. Steve removed _the Red Queen_ from his shoulders onto the ground, as if to be ready if Thanos decided to rush them, but he didn’t look ready to hurt anyone. He continued to cough up blood, but there were no visible wounds on him, which was odd.

 

The bug filled hum was broken when Thanos said, “I knew it was something extreme.”

 

Eyes that looked dead…but angry found Tony’s and he went on, monotone, “Your boy got a lucky strike in. Imbedded the Mischievous One’s blade in my chest. I applaud you…you raised a skilled fighter, though I fear he is learning too much from the pretend god. It was a…let us say ‘cheap’ shot.”

 

“Sounds like you’re embarrassed about being bested by a sixteen-year-old,” Thor grinned, and Tony could imagine blood in his teeth in some far away battle, maybe even before Tony’s birth, “But you are right, my brother is known for his cheap blows. However, it was still enough to injure you.”

 

Thanos turned to Thor, face stoic as he commented almost offhandedly, “Thor…your strikes have been much more straight forward, despite miscalculation. Suppose I should have passed on the message to the child to go for the head but…the time for that has passed. As has the time for your brother’s survival.”

 

Thor raised his axe, “We will undo your actions soon enough.”

 

“Maybe,” Thanos grunted, “But even-so…Your brother will never be revived. He is gone forever…His body is _dead_ , God of Thunder. Undoing my actions will not bring him back. Floating in empty space…I told him, no resurrections. Your hope, your optimism, it is misplaced. You will be alone, family-less, for the rest of your existence. That is where you and I are the same.”

 

Thor stepped forward and Tony almost reached out to stop him, but he knew inwardly there was no use, because if Thor wanted to go, he would and Cap was probably the only one with a chance at stopping him. Thor growled, “We are not the same, in any likeness, you are faulted beyond repair and your loneliness is your own doing.”

 

Tony glanced at Nebula, whose eyes looked to be burning, on fire, ready to kill her ‘father’ right then and there. Pieces were mixing, Tony was floating, this was Thanos’ daughter that had turned against him because of his cruelty. If that didn’t show true hatred, Tony didn’t know what did. Her hands were gripped at her sides.

 

Thanos chuckled deeply, “Isn’t it so much worse to be so weak that it is out of your control? You couldn’t save any of them.”

 

Tony took it back. All the thoughts about Thor having an amazing coping mechanism, because in that moment it broke. Thor rushed forward, letting out an angry shout with his axe raised and Tony cursed under his breath, pressing his chest and allowing his nanobots to envelope him as the scene in front of him began to move. Everyone stood at the ready suddenly, Nat pulling her guns from their holsters, Clint yanking out his bow. Steve’s new ‘shield’ erupted and Rocket and Nebula readied themselves as well. Tony didn’t feel prepared at all. His helmet wasn’t even completely fixed, barely covering his entire face, he could feel the thinness in the armor.

 

Thanos, cringing in pain, raised his arm weakly and the gauntlet glowed, causing Thor’s body to phase right through him and into the ground behind him. Thor rolled to his feet, but Thanos swung before he could completely rise and his knuckles made contact with Thanos’ temple. As soon as the strike was made, everyone moved at once. Cap sprinted the fastest, and he jumped in the air, shield raised as Thanos used the gauntlet, smacking the super soldier out of the sky as if he were a simple insect. Nothing, and Tony’s heart raced, because he was back on Titan. He was reliving it again.

 

All of them were working together, but nothing was getting done. He was slipping fast, feet coming to a halt, and Tony couldn’t breathe, and this was not the time nor place for a panic attack, but it was rising when he saw both Nat and Clint get thrown into the lake behind them, both smacking into the water harshly. Nebula was swinging blades at Thanos, but he fought back, though slower than Tony had ever seen him, clearly weakened, but it wasn’t _enough_. Nebula was speaking to him, maybe taunting, or he was taunting her, and Thanos threw a whole fucking tree at Rocket.

 

Tony couldn’t _breathe_. Rhodey flew in the air, shooting his blasters towards the titan. The gauntlet glowed, entrapping Rhodey in a strange hue before slamming him into the ground and Tony gasped, over and over again, chest heaving, because he wasn’t seeing them. He saw Strange, he saw Mantis, and Quill, and Drax, and his _son_. They were carrying out a plan, a good one, but right then they had no plan and Tony yanked at himself. Pulled at every piece of courage he had, because he needed to fight. Here he was a soldier.

 

He hated the idea of being a soldier, but he needed to be one. For the moment.

 

The air was still suffocating as his blaster flew him towards Thanos, a bit off balanced. He couldn’t tell if that was because of the damage or if it was because he was fighting while simultaneously fighting off PTSD. He couldn’t remember the last time it had, had him so fucked up. Probably sometime after New York and it was not a good time to be freaking out. Not when half the universe and his child was on the line. Not when there was the chance of everyone he cared about being murdered in their failure.

 

Then Thanos turned towards him.

 

The gauntlet wrapped him in a hold and he was yanked forward, met by Thanos’ hand gripping him tightly around the throat, incasing half of his chest in the process. Now he definitely couldn’t breathe, and Tony gripped the titan’s hand, trying to pry it off. He shot his blaster, and the titan only groaned and blinked when it hit the side of his neck, and he then slammed Tony into the ground, holding him down.

 

“You know, Stark,” Thanos growled above him, “I truly do feel sorry for you. While I have my daughter forever…Your son will always be out of reach. Always just far enough that you can’t touch him. He will never truly be yours again.”

 

Tony, face contorted into pain, raised his hand in another attempt to shoot at the titan’s face, but Thanos grabbed it with his free hand, squeezing and practically crushing the nanobots under his grip. The metal bent, shattered, groaned under the strain and Tony’s arm was exposed, pain shooting into his shoulder as he felt the bone strain just as the nanobots had. His skin was exposed to the air and Tony let out a loud scream until eventually Thanos’ hold let up and he released Tony’s arm, the entire sleeve of protection destroyed.

 

“You don’t have her,” Tony hissed, barely able to speak through the hand around his throat, “She doesn’t love you…you big stupid-asshole…But my kid loves me. He fucking loves me and that…makes me better than you.”

 

Tony paused, and grinned bloodily, because yeah he was scared…but he was also so, so pissed off at that point.

 

“I’m _better_ than you, Thanos.”

 

Thanos’ smugness fell. It contorted into a glare. He raised his fist, ready to strike. Ready to end it and sure, Tony was ready, face half exposed. Because he had watched Thanos knock down each of his friends while he was having a mini-panic attack and now…he wasn’t so afraid. He wasn’t scared to die. Dying felt like the easiest thing he would ever do now. Nothing would ever be as hard as watching Peter die. As telling Pepper goodbye. As getting sober. His entire life had been…a shit show. But it was the best shit show.

 

Dying was just…a step forward.

 

Tony relaxed slightly, waiting for the blow to come. But then an arrow was imbedding itself in Thanos’ forearm and Thanos let out a loud wail and Clint was standing, knee deep in the lake, bow raised. And of fucking course, Clint Barton would be the one to postpone Tony’s death bed because he was just irritating like that.

 

Thanos jolted backward, and Tony shot in a sitting position, raising his hand before he remembered the blaster had been destroyed. It didn’t matter, in the end though, when there was a sudden cry across the earth, and stomping from behind and Tony turned just in time to see a giant green beast running towards him and Thanos.

 

Tony’s eyes widened, and he rolled out of the way just in time for the beast…for the _Hulk_ to sprint past him and to slam into Thanos’ side. Tony stumbled to his feet and watched as the two of them went rolling across the ground, dirt and mud flying up as they started sliding into the lake and both Clint and Nat had to run out of the way of the two of them. Tony had never been so happy to have someone disobey his orders and Steve’s voice called suddenly from his left, “Tony!”

 

Tony looked over and Steve pointed towards _the Red Queen_. Right…Right, now was the time. Tony started shedding the nanobots off his body, or what was left of them, his arm aching slightly where Thanos had squeezed so tightly. His heart raced, and he could hear the Hulk bellowing and once the nanobots were off of him, he reached into his back pocket, pulling out the remote and bringing up the hologram. He typed in the orders and looked towards the Hulk, hearing _the Red Queen_ breathe to life behind his head.

 

Thanos and Hulk were thrashing in the water, giant splashes coming to shore. Tony screamed, “Hulk!”

 

The Hulk barely paused in his movements and Tony kept his finger on the trigger. The Hulk stared at Tony, silently, as if there was some sort of understood, underlying information there. The Hulk grabbed Thanos by the throat, the titan gasping for air and Tony pulled the trigger. _The Red Queen_ surged behind him, and flew overhead and Tony dropped to his stomach to keep from being struck by the giant hunk of metal. The Hulk stood a few moments as it approached, before dragging Thanos in front of him.

 

Thor, seemingly out of nowhere, threw his axe into Hulk’s side to knock him out of the way and _the Red Queen_ enveloped Thanos’ gauntleted hand. Tony struggled with the remote, finger sliding over the blue, glowing button and the world whirled into focus. He tasted blood and dirt in his mouth and Thanos’ scream overtook the entire area, swallowing it, as _the Red Queen_ shredded through his arm, removing it and the gauntlet completely.

 

As far as gore goes…Tony had never been so sickeningly happy to see it.

 

The Red Queen only retracted when the arm was completely amputated, and the severed limb was dropped to the ground, along with the machine. Thanos continued wailing, screaming, and Tony’s ears rung from how loud it was. A monster, dying, going into the void. The Rhino, life leaving its eyes, a tormentor of the past and Tony watched silently as he stumbled into the lake, onto his back and Thanos looked up at the sky like he was a part of it and was being left behind.

 

No one moved. Thanos continued to make his pained noises, but Tony could barely hear it. He didn’t know why time was moving so slowly. Why it felt like he was outside of his body. Why he couldn’t breathe and what was making things twist around in his mind like they were, but it was like that…It was like he wasn’t there, it wasn’t happening, the gauntlet wasn’t on the ground, still over Thanos’ amputated hand. Like their plan hadn’t worked. Tony had pulled the trigger, it had happened. It had gone the way it needed to go. It had been the _one_ future Strange had seen.

 

One future out of endless amounts. Tony breathed deeply, eyes burning with tears of…he couldn’t say relief, but he didn’t know what it was. But it was over. It felt over. Thanos was _dying_. Too injured to even move, and everyone was standing, looking at him like they were in the same state of shock as Tony. He didn’t even notice when Nebula approached, and removed the gauntlet from Thanos’ amputated hand. It was much too large for her own hand, but she held the fingers and there was a glance towards Tony…towards everyone.

 

She breathed, and Tony nodded his head.

 

There was a flash.

 

…

 

Of all the things Peter expected, Thanos’ pale body appearing inside the Soul Stone was not one of them.

 

After all, he had thought they had done away with him. Or at least he wouldn’t be coming back. He had hoped anyway, but when Thanos’ body appeared, in their orange world, where he, Loki, and Gamora were sitting…waiting for something or anything to happen…he was pale. His eyes were empty, but he was not dead. Still, he spoke nothing, his arm was gone, and Peter felt like he was in some sort of twisted dream.

 

“Wha…?” Peter whispered.

 

Then he felt it…The same feeling that had overtaken him so long ago on Titan. When the world had twisted and turned and he had fallen apart in his father’s arms. Gamora and Loki looked at him with wide eyes, and Peter felt himself being torn, shredded, and he was evaporating, but not in the exact same way. This was not ash, this was magnetism. Peter was pulling and pulling and pulling and he looked at Loki and Gamora and he asked frantically, “What’s happening?”

 

“They did it,” Gamora breathed.

 

His fingers were turning…pink and orange, and yellow. So many shades, and it was climbing through him, through his veins and it would have been beautiful if it didn’t hurt so much. He looked at Loki, terror and then at Gamora and he all but cried, eyes beginning to burn with pained tears, “B-But why are you two…?”

 

“Because we cannot,” Loki answered for him, his face stoic, cold, but understanding and Peter felt his stomach drop, “We didn’t go like you, child…We cannot return like you either.”

 

Peter’s jaw dropped, and he shouted, voice cracking, “Did you know this the whole time!?”

 

Loki said nothing, but something like guilt flashed over his eyes. Peter…Peter gasped, surging forward and grabbing Loki’s forearm. Loki looked at him with shock and Peter latched on tightly, shaking his head back and forth, “No, no, that’s not fair!”

 

“Peter, you have to let go,” Gamora ordered, “He cannot come with you. Neither of us can. Please… _Please_ tell my Peter that I…I love him…Please tell him that for me, alright?”

 

Peter shook his head vehemently, “No! I’m not leaving either of you here! It isn’t fair and he’s here he might hurt you guys!”

 

Loki attempted to pry the glowing fingers from himself, but Peter wouldn’t budge. Peter stared at Gamora with wide and teary eyes, trying to make sense of this very difficult thing that was happening, but he couldn’t even see through the pain of his body shifting inside itself anymore. The ground started to move below his feet, a swirl, a light forming below him and he stepped as it opened wider, trying to swallow him up. He continued to latch onto Loki, but the pull was getting stronger by each passing moment and the pink had risen to his cheeks.

 

“You have to go,” Loki ordered.

 

“Stop it!” Peter yanked at Loki’s arm, and he reached for Gamora too, but she stepped away, and now she was crying as well, and Peter felt guilt rising in his throat, burning like bile, because he was making her cry and she was so small and young and he was supposed to be her friend, “Please!”

 

_I can’t breathe. Don’t leave me guys, you’re my friends, please don’t leave me._

_Don’t make me go._

_Don’t. Don’t. Don’t –_

Loki’s fingers were prying at his own, and the light grew in the ground, sliding below Peter’s foot and he nearly fell inside. Loki’s eyes widened as Peter stumbled back, and still did not release his arm. Both of them fell towards the opening abyss and Loki shouted, “Wait!”

 

But it was too late. They were falling, and Gamora squealed and the last thing Peter saw as he and Loki went plummeting inside was Gamora leaning over the edge, watching them go, go, and go, further and further away into nothing. The light went away. Darkness sparked, and Peter was breathless, falling and he couldn’t even scream. He couldn’t do anything, but he felt so empty there in the darkness. Like he was dreaming it all…trapped in a giant peach…

 

_“Well, maybe it started that way. As a dream, but doesn’t everything? Those buildings. These lights. This whole city. Somebody had to dream about it first. And maybe that is what I did. I dreamed about coming here, but then I did it.”_

 

Until he was waking.

 

Yanked together.

 

Chest tight and Peter sat up, screaming in pain. Dust flew into the air, orange again, another orange world and his eyes snapped open and his head felt like it was going to explode. He gripped both sides, falling over and curling into himself as things flashed across his vision, things that were not his own, and they felt invasive and wrong and Peter couldn’t _breathe_ …

 

_“Child. Calm yourself!”_

Peter startled at the sound of the voice. It was a voice he had grown used to listening to, and when he looked up with teary eyes, skull throbbing almost unfathomably forceful, he saw no one. Just him…there, blood slamming against his skull and he couldn’t _breathe_. But it was almost certainly Loki’s voice, but Loki wasn’t there because Loki couldn’t come back –

 

_“No…No Peter…What did you do?”_

The throbbing sharpened, and Peter flinched, pressing his fingers onto his eyelids. Peter groaned quietly, “Mister Loki…?”

 

 _“Yes, it’s me, you idiot!”_ Loki’s voice snapped, and Peter cringed again, feeling like he was about to vomit, his mouth beginning to water and heart racing. He leaned forward and gagged, though nothing arose. His fingers tightened into the dirt, under his gloves, and tears streamed his face. He coughed several times.

 

He whimpered, “Where are you?”

 

_“Oh I’m sorry, was it not clear!?”_

Peter grabbed his hair, “Please stop screaming…Where _are_ you?”

 

 _“Peter,”_ Loki breathed, and Peter looked around again, realizing they weren’t in the Soul Stone anymore, but instead…they were where he died…they were on Titan and Loki was not there. Peter was alone. A few more seconds passed, and Loki finally told him…

 

_“We seem to **both** be…in your body.”_


	8. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter didn’t get to laugh…He instead doubled over, and blood rushed up his throat once more, this time covering Star Lord’s shoes.
> 
> “Ah shit, Baby-Peter!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter lacks excitement, though I had really planned for it to be a filler chapter from the beginning. There's some things that needed addressing and I wanted to give those things the attention they deserved instead of just sprinkling them around. Also, I will be leaving to go to Disney in two days (YAY!) BUT that means updates could take more than a few days. Hopefully not, I plan to bring my laptop with me, but you know what happens when you're having fun. I do want to get the reunion chapter posted though before I get too busy, because I feel like it'd be mean to leave you guys with this for a whole week or something. So I suppose I'll be binge writing the next few days! Here we go!

Peter was alone for several minutes, and in those several minutes, he got a good feel for the situation that had been thrust into his hands.

 

A: He didn’t feel good. Like… _at all_ , and not that he thought coming back from the dead was going to feel great, but he had hoped it would feel a little better than this, and he supposed it would have if there wasn’t someone else hijacking his plane. His head and chest felt like they were on the verge of exploding, he wanted to vomit, and the nausea was becoming a constant battle. Every time he attempted to stand on his own two feet, vertigo swamped him and he sunk back down in a crumbled position.

 

B: Loki was…loud, and he moved a lot. The movements didn’t feel like another being inside of him, under his skin, it more so felt like some kind of mental intrusion. A way he couldn’t describe and didn’t even know how to _start_ describing. It was like having two brains inside his skull or two hearts in his chest and Peter was starting to wonder if the Tin-Man and the Scarecrow even knew what they were talking about.

 

_Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking._

_“That thought had better be directed towards yourself,”_ Loki thought bitterly _, “We are in this predicament because you couldn’t let go.”_

Peter covered his ears again, but he knew it was no use. There was a coldness settling over him, like a heavy ice, and he whispered, “You talk too loud, Mister Loki…please…Could you try to whisper?”

 

_“Could you try to calm your anxieties?”_

The movement returned, and Peter shoved back at it, as if there was a form in his skull, trying to take over, trying to look out into his world. He felt Loki’s offense overtake him a moment and it made Peter’s stomach churn with fear _, “Did you just – “_

“I’m sorry,” Peter shut his eyes, “You’re hurting me.”

 

There was silence a few moments. Completely so, and Peter thought, if it weren’t for the foreign pressure behind his eyes, he would have assumed Loki had simply disappeared. However, he heard a sigh, and this time Loki’s voice was quieter, gentler, and Peter relaxed slightly _, “I apologize. This is just…strange. I cannot feel my limbs, and I cannot reach yours. I feel as if I’m floating, but I see what you see.”_

Peter bit his lip. That was sort of his fault. He had dragged Loki through. But the thought of leaving Loki and Gamora there had been so terrifying at the moment, that he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t let go, and honestly, he was glad Gamora had stepped away from him because he couldn’t imagine having two people in his head. The amount of pain he was in just form having Loki there was almost unbearable.

 

_“I think you should try to move again.”_

Peter shook his head, face buried in the dirt, “I can’t.”

 

_“Try.”_

“No,” Peter felt frustrated, wrapping his arms over his head. He bit his tongue to keep from saying something awful, and instead he just went on weakly, “It hurts.”

 

He could feel the preparation Loki was making to speak to him further, but that was when Peter was suddenly no longer alone. It was like a whirl pool, ashes rising from the ground and Peter rolled over, lifting his head just enough to watch as the surrounding area became covered in the stuff, and masses of people formed. Not masses as in hoards, but bodies. Standing and becoming whole and after a few seconds, Peter was able to make out each of said bodies. In front of him were Star Lord, Drax, and Mantis…And to his right was Doctor Strange.

 

His heart started to race, and the moment they were all formed, they stumbled, each of them, like they had been punched in the chest. Strange let out a loud gasp, as if greedily searching for oxygen and Star Lord grabbed his shirt, yanking and he shouted in shock, “Where the _fuck_ \- !?”

 

“I feel…thin,” Drax muttered, face confused.

 

Star Lord scoffed, “Well, no fear of that one, buddy. But what the shit? What – what the hell?”

 

Peter pushed himself into a sitting position and Mantis chimed in, “Ouch…”

 

The teens eyes glittered towards Strange who was flexing his fingers, looking down at them as if they were the strangest thing in the world. Stranger than his name. Peter swallowed thickly, and Loki was wiggling again in his mind, trying to see past Peter’s eyes and Peter shut them several times to get the blur to go away. Peter thought silently, “Mister Loki…you gotta stop.”

 

_“You are in my way.”_

Peter wanted to sigh. They were in his head after all, they were his eyes to look through. Doctor Strange looked up at him, pupils wide and the doctor seemed to whisper, maybe a bit dumbly, but Peter didn’t think so. If they had been floating around barely aware it was probably all shock. Peter had known they were going back, he had been somewhat prepared even if he had dragged Loki down with him in the confusion.

 

“They did it.”

 

Star Lord shouted across the empty space, his voice echoing and causing Peter to flinch, “Did what!? What _happened_!? Where’s my ship, what – what – “

 

A string of curses followed as Star Lord stomped forward towards both Peter and Doctor Strange. Peter stared at the doctor, blinking over and over again before Doctor Strange finally acknowledged him. The man’s eyebrows furrowed, and Peter explained softly, “Y-yeah…we did it. Or they did…”

 

Peter looked at Star Lord and went on, “My dad and the other lady probably took the ship…I’m sorry.”

 

Star Lord looked horrified, “They stole my ship!?”

 

“They must have been the only ones left,” Strange theorized, standing to his feet, just as Mantis and Drax got closer as well. Peter stayed on the ground, still feeling sick to his stomach and not wanting to risk the vertigo that was bound to come. Doctor Strange continued, “They had to get off the planet somehow, Quill. I’m sure they’ll send someone for us when they realize this is where we’ve woken.”

 

Star Lord wagged a finger distractingly, “No, I know that bitch, she’s probably pretending it’s her ship, I’m gonna kick her ass.”

 

Mantis shook her head, “You cannot.”

 

“She’s right,” Drax agreed.

 

Star Lord glared before turning to look down at Peter. Peter blinked several times and Star Lord held out a hand for Peter to take, maybe confused as to why he had made no attempt to stand. Peter’s hands were shaking as he slowly reached out and took a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen would fight the dizziness that was sure to come. Peter was pulled outward slowly, and he thought ‘yeah, this is okay’, until suddenly his knees buckled, and he was sent plummeting back towards the dirt.

 

Both Strange and Star Lord caught him, and Star Lord shouted, “Woah!”

 

Peter shut his eyes as he was slowly lowered back to the ground in a sitting position. Strange moved to kneel in front of him and Peter felt the familiar warmth of blood sliding from his nose, like within the Soul Stone. Strange grabbed his chin, face confused as he inspected Peter and his head tilted back, blood beginning to go down his throat and it tasted like iron. Peter hoped Strange was a real doctor, and by the perplexed expression but curiosity on his face, maybe he was. He _looked_ like he’d be a real doctor. Or a witch doctor, which was…scary.

 

Loki spoke sharply _, “Stupid magician.”_

Peter fought the flinch and Doctor Strange questioned, “Do you feel sick?”

 

“I don’t feel…” Peter grabbed at his abdomen, the nausea turning into a sudden, sharp stabbing pain in his stomach and he continued quietly, “I don’t feel awesome.”

 

Then Peter gagged. He turned to the side, and Star Lord jumped out of the way, pushing both Drax and Mantis with him as Peter vomited into the dirt beside himself. He expected to see some kind of stomach acid, because he hadn’t eaten in so long, but instead he was met with thick, crimson and blackness and that was most definitely some kind of clotted blood that he had just thrown up everywhere. Peter gagged and gasped several more times and Strange moved behind him, trying to keep him upright so he wouldn’t choke.

 

“Breathe,” Strange ordered, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t stop coughing, “Peter, you have to _breathe_.”

 

_“Do as the magician says!”_ Loki’s voice sounded panicked.

 

Peter tried his best, sucking in a deep breath that smelled of bile and blood. He let out a sob-like sound, but he wasn’t crying. He was just hurting, and his head felt so full, and every time Loki said something it got much worse. Peter finally got his coughing under control though and Strange latched onto his arms, pulling him away from where he had vomited. Mantis questioned quietly, “What is wrong with him?”

 

“I don’t know,” Strange replied, and he turned Peter’s head towards him. The blood on his nose had started to dry, “Did something happen to you? Before we came back or before we were…disintegrated? Did your body take some kind of damage?”

 

Peter shook his head, his lip quivering from all the questions, “No sir.”

 

Strange hummed, and Peter couldn’t tell if it was a disbelieving hum or something else. He pulled back, removing the magic cloak from his shoulders and it floated away a bit. He started prodding at Peter’s chest with his fingers, and slowly he lowered to Peter’s abdomen. Peter didn’t feel pain, until he pressed directly above his navel and a sharp fire went up his spine, like lightning and he saw white-hot pain. He even felt Loki cringe back, and without Peter’s permission, Peter threw his hands out, shoving at Strange’s shoulders, causing the doctor to fall back onto his bottom. Peter immediately retracted his arms in shock, because he most definitely had not done that…

 

_“I am sorry,”_ Loki said _, “That was my doing.”_

Great. Great, now Loki could use his arms? Peter shoved at Loki’s form in his mind, and he saw a flash of the god’s frustrated face, as if he had actually been pushed over onto the ground and was sent sprawling. Peter apologized to Strange profusely, “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…I mean, it just h-hurt, Mister Strange o-or! Doctor Strange, I’m so sorry!”

 

Doctor Strange waved him off, rising back to his knees, “It’s fine.”

 

But it didn’t feel fine. He didn’t even do it, Loki did it. He had somehow reached for the controls and had been capable of grabbing them and there was an unsettling thing within that, the thought making his heart race madly within him. So fast he thought it might explode and then being resurrected wouldn’t even matter much at all.

 

Peter felt the urge to vomit again, but he swallowed it. Doctor Strange’s hand returned above Peter’s navel once more, but he didn’t press hard this time, just gently prodded and he wondered aloud, “It doesn’t feel like internal bleeding but without a scan I can’t be sure.”

 

“It’s not internal bleeding,” Peter whispered, “No one hurt me.”

 

Strange tilted his head before he replied, “Well, people don’t just start vomiting up blood for no reason, without some kind of damage, unless it’s an unknown effect from reforming.”

 

Mantis stepped forward beside him, and she held out a hand. Peter didn’t get a chance to ask what she was doing before she suddenly placed the hand on his shoulder and he cringed slightly at the sudden contact. But it only lasted a moment, barely and then she was flinching back, letting out a loud shout. Peter jumped in surprise and Star Lord stepped forward, grabbing her shoulders. Drax looked at Peter like he had done something wrong, but Peter held up his hands in a sort of surrender.

 

The girl…alien? Breathed heavily, looking at Peter with wide, black eyes. Peter swallowed thickly, and he suddenly curled into himself a bit, maybe understanding what had happened. She could feel it? Like she had felt Thanos’ mourning, maybe she felt Peter’s…extra person inside of him. Loki felt like he knew too, realization resonating twice over, the second time it was not Peter’s. Peter shook his head slowly, as if pleading with her not to say anything, but she did anyway, her voice shaking as if she was going to cry.

 

“There’s…There is darkness,” Mantis whispered, “Inside of him…Like an entire other _being_. A parasite.”

 

If a glare were a physical feeling, Peter felt Loki do it. The god surged forward inside of him and his voice snapped harshly, _“Parasite!?”_

“Stop,” Peter ordered inside of himself, because he couldn’t speak aloud, they’d definitely think something crazy was happening then, so he kept his thoughts to himself, but aimed directly towards Loki’s mind, “Stop it.”

 

Peter continued to shake his head, and instead said, “There’s not – there’s not!”

 

It felt a lot like finding Ned in his room and trying to deny the fact that he was Spider-Man even though the other boy was staring at him wearing the suit. Peter’s eyes burned when he noticed the way everyone was looking at him, like he was something dangerous or an anomaly and Peter was so tired of being the odd one out. Nothing could ever be easy for him, it never was. He was always, always messing up and he couldn’t have just come back, he had dragged Loki with him.

 

Another flood of blood escaped his nose and Peter groaned in frustration, covering it with his hands. Strange moved forward, grabbing his wrists to inspect the nose himself. Peter blinked back tears as the wizard asked sharply, “Do you know?”

 

Peter shook his head, though anxiety bubbled when Star Lord spoke from behind him, “You are the worst liar I’ve ever seen, Baby-Peter, talk.”

 

Peter’s lower lip trembled heavily, but he fought it down, focusing on getting the blood to stop flooding out of his nose. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he was in trouble and this was not how he imagined it was going to be, to get to come back and to wake up and be alive again. Because they were finally there, they were finally in one piece and yet Peter felt like it wasn’t anything to be celebrated because he had done something wrong.

 

Peter whispered, “My dad is going to be so mad at me.”

 

“And why is that?” Doctor Strange questioned, and Peter only looked away, wiping his bloodied nose. Doctor Strange waited patiently a few moments before he continued, “Whatever you did, your father is very far away right now and we’re the only ones who can help you. You need to tell us.”

 

The man’s eyes had softened considerably. When Peter looked at Mantis, Drax, and Star Lord, he saw them staring down at him intently. Mantis always looked kind, weird, but nice. Drax’s face looked…more confused than anything and Star Lord looked kind of annoyed, but he seemed to be the only one losing patience with Peter. And maybe it was because he was still reeling from losing Gamora, but Peter felt her loss too, even if he had known her for just a little while.

 

He didn’t know if he should say it. He didn’t know if it was a good move to make, but it was clear something was wrong with him and they probably wouldn’t drop it until he told them why he could barely stand on his own. He was in pieces, it felt like, but also like he was crammed inside of himself with Loki squeezing in as well and it felt so, so _heavy_. Peter bit his lower lip and he knew what he had to do, but Loki’s presence shook at the idea.

 

_“Peter don’t. Don’t do it, we cannot tell them.”_

Peter thought in return, “Something is really wrong, Mister Loki…I feel like I’m dying.”

 

There was silence and maybe Mister Loki realized what needed to be done as well. Peter blinked at Doctor Strange once more, and the wizard was still waiting patiently for some sort of response and Peter cleared his throat anxiously while rubbing his hands together.

 

“Someone…Someone came back with me…From the Soul Stone.”

 

Doctor Strange nodded slowly, but Peter could tell he didn’t truly get it, “Okay…explain.”

 

“Thanos had me i-in some kind of…pocket,” Peter started, voice shaking as he felt the four pairs of eyes on him, scrutinizing, “And well…Anyway, I stabbed Thanos in the Soul World to weaken him, so that my dad and the others would have a shot at killing him here in the real world. I met…I met some people in the Soul Stone and one of them came back with me on accident, because I kind of wouldn’t let go of him, so we both…Came here. He couldn’t come back because Thanos murdered him before we were turned to ash.”

 

“And who came back with you?” Star Lord’s voice asked.

 

Peter looked at Star Lord, but he supposed he wouldn’t know who Peter was talking about so he instead returned his attention to Doctor Strange.

 

He whispered softly, “Loki.”

 

…

 

When Tony had first met Peter, he had been coloring a spaceship.

 

That seemed so long ago now, entering that room where the four-year-old he had never met was sitting, but he remembered it so vividly it struck him hard. A stab wound, open and at the time it had been terrifying, but then space, and a wormhole, and Thanos. Space became so much _more_ , and Peter had told him he could catch his parents if he had a spaceship, catch them from falling out of the sky, but no one had caught Peter and now they had undone everything…But Peter was going to be without Tony because Tony wasn’t _there_.

 

“We need to go to Titan, _now_.”

 

The ship had only just reentered space…They had only just scraped themselves back together after the fight, but it had to be done. Tony couldn’t wait another moment before he confronted Nebula with the idea, while the gauntlet lay in the corner of the ship. He wasn’t an idiot, they had the ship and if people were reforming…if they were being melded back together, Peter would not be on Earth, but he would be on Titan.

 

Tony kept eyeing the gauntlet warily, his hands shaking slightly and everyone else appeared to be doing the same to some degree. Mostly because they knew what was inside of it…They knew what Nebula had done or hadn’t done and Tony had yet to understand it but it wasn’t his first priority. He would worry about it later. About the fact that Thanos was inside the Soul Stone and not really dead.

 

“Stop looking at it like that,” Nebula sighed from the controls, “He isn’t going to crawl out.”

 

Tony snapped, “Did you hear me? We need to go to Titan.”

 

Nebula replied just as sharply, “We _are_ , Stark. Your child isn’t going anywhere, he will be waiting when we arrive…We still have several hours before we get there anyway so you mine as well sit down.”

 

Gnawing. Frustration and anger was _gnawing_ in the back of his mind like a monster. It wanted to get out, but so did Tony, he wanted to get out of himself. He wanted to be free of whatever this monster was, in his chest, because they had won, but Thanos wasn’t truly dead and Peter wasn’t with him yet. Peter was still on the planet where he had died and Tony couldn’t let himself feel hope until he had the boy in his grasp. He couldn’t let himself feel relief until Thanos was nonexistent.

 

Tony whispered, voice slicing through the air between himself and Nebula, “Why didn’t you _kill_ him? Why not finish him off, why just put him in the stone?”

 

Nebula was silent, fingers gripping the controls tightly. Tony couldn’t even begin to imagine what the answer was, and when he looked back, he noticed the others all listening in and maybe waiting for an explanation as well. So possibly, Tony wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing and that was a first because he always felt so alone in these sorts of situations whenever someone needed to be scolded or something. But when it came to him, no one ever hesitated to tell him what exactly he was doing wrong and when.

 

He hadn’t made it easy but come on.

 

She seemed to be chewing on the information in front of her, maybe formulating the best possible response. Finally though she muttered, “I…I wish to find a way to free my sister from the stone. She would not have come back with the reversal of the Snap, so there has to be some other way to bring her back…And I may need Thanos to get that information, so keeping him in limbo…somewhat alive seemed to be the best option.”

 

Tony wanted to tell her she was an idiot. But he knew if it were Peter, he would have probably done the same thing. With Thanos inside the Soul Stone, he couldn’t harm them anyhow…But it was still unnerving to think he was alive at all, even with his arm gone. Tony wanted him out of existence. Tony wanted him dead, like he had done to his son.

 

Tony heard Rocket mutter something from behind, “So this means the ones we lost on your planet are probably back by now.”

 

“It seems that way,” Steve replied, “They’ll be waiting for us. We need to get our people off of Titan first.”

 

That was all of it, wasn’t it? This had been the endgame all along, Peter had been the last piece. Peter had been Tony’s entire goal, as selfish as that sounded and as much as he wanted half the universe to be restored, there had been some relief in having Peter back, not as ash, as a whole person, just as he was before.

 

He slumped into his nearby chair, face burning, eyes stinging with the thought that he was about to get to his kid. He tried to let the happiness and relief come, but it was replaced instead by exhaustion. He was so fucking tired.

 

Rhodey reached over and squeezed his arm, “We did it, Tones. It’s going to be okay. He’ll be there waiting for you.”

 

Sure he would be. Tony had been making that boy wait his entire life. Two months in foster care until Tony finally showed up to do what needed to be done. Making Peter wait under the bed while he went to fight Obadiah. Making Peter wait while he got his shit together when he was dying, and making Peter wait while he flew into a wormhole. Peter had been waiting and waiting forever, and Tony figured it was karma now, having a kid be Spider-Man because he had traumatized his child for so many years, risking his life.

 

Tony ran his hands through his hair.

 

As much as he tried to be a good father, he always found flaws in his methods. Sometimes he figured, maybe he should have been stricter about Spider-Man. Should have found a way to force Peter to stop his vigilantism. Found a cure for the mutation that Peter had apparently been set on keeping. Because this was his son, Peter was a child, and Tony sometimes had absolutely no backbone. But then he would look back at instances where he _had_ been strict. Where he had taken the suit. That hadn’t worked either and Tony felt guilty, because he was irreparably inadequate in so many ways.

 

Sometimes he dreamed of Peter, being small. Sometimes he dreamed of all those nights when Peter wouldn’t sleep. It had lasted so many years into Peter living with him, it had become routine to find Peter wandering the house and Tony having to grab him and put him back to bed and insist that everything in the world was fine when in fact it wasn’t. And Peter would squirm, like he knew the truth, but there was no way he actually did at four, no kid did.

 

Tony supposed he had been adequate at that. At holding Peter.

 

And one night, Peter, and his tiny four-year-old hands had grabbed both sides of his face in the dark room. Tony had blinked back, confused, as the kid studied him closely, eyebrows knit together, and mouth pulled into a frown. Tony’s eye had been blackened after he had drunk too much and taken a tumble into one of his lab tables. It had only been a few months since Hydra. Since being shot, since getting Peter back. And drinking was the only way to cope when the house got quiet and Peter slept.

 

_“Ooooo, your eye,”_ Peter had whispered, hands continuing to squeeze Tony’s cheeks together in the moonlight _, “You look like a boxer!”_

Tony couldn’t help but smirk a bit at that _, “A boxer?”_

_“Yes!”_ Peter squealed, rolling on his back and pretending to punch the ceiling above _, “Like…Like a badass!”_

Tony shook his head, sometimes he wondered where Peter heard these words until he recalled not having a great filter of his own, _“That’s a swear word. Don’t say it.”_

_“Okay,”_ Peter agreed easily, always so easily _, “Did you fight a bad guy?”_

It was an innocent question, but it had felt like a penknife. He didn’t want Peter to know there were bad guys in the world, but unfortunately the kid had witnessed it firsthand. It was the source of the bad dreams, after all. Tony couldn’t erase them from Peter’s memory, but if he could have he wouldn’t have hesitated, even if it might have been unethical. It was sort of ironic, because this wasn’t from someone else, but it _was_ from a bad guy. A bad dad, who drank a bit too much.

 

_“Not really,”_ Tony answered, not having the heart to blatantly lie _, “I fell.”_

Peter looked at him, and Tony expected the impressed expression to be gone, but it had turned into a wide grin as Peter rolled towards him and patted his cheek gently _, “I like it better when you don’t fight bad guys. You’re a good daddy.”_

Peter’s arm wrapped tightly around his neck, planting a kiss directly on the bruise, making Tony jump in surprise, having to shut his eye quickly to avoid slobber in his cornea. Peter then buried his face in the crook of Tony’s neck and Tony listened as the boy’s breathing evened out. And Tony just listened, because sometimes that was the best thing he could do for himself. Night after night, maybe having Peter stay in his room hadn’t been for Peter’s comfort, it had been for his own, and then it had taken so long to get the kid to sleep by himself.

 

Tony had felt guilty when that transition had to take place because it had been his fault Peter was so used to staying with him. It was his fault for feeding into his own fears and therefore passing them onto his son…Agonizing him with that sort of torture and Peter should never have been so scared. So he had let the kid stay with him for weeks and weeks and weeks.

 

Peter had been so small then, and delicate looking but he was the strongest thing in Tony’s life. The thing that gave him structure, a routine, something to follow.

 

Get up, get Peter dressed, help him brush his teeth and hair and give him breakfast. Take him to pre-school, and Tony struggled to busy himself in the meantime, but as soon as Peter came home the structure was back. Tony had held onto that structure for so many years and without Peter…he didn’t know where it had gone.

 

Tony shut his eyes and tried to rest, heart causing incessant pain as it mixed with the memories of his brain.

 

_I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart._

 

…

 

Peter was desperate for some water.

 

Like truly desperate.

 

Unfortunately, Titan was barren, and it was hours waiting for anyone to arrive on the desolate planet. A part of Peter was worried no one was coming, but Strange was continually reassuring him that his father would arrive for them. Strange had been a huge source of comfort, and Peter wondered how he had been afraid of him, until he remembered Strange saying on the donut that he wouldn’t hesitate to let Peter and his father die. And then he remembered what made him so scary.

 

Peter squirmed, Strange’s cloak squeezing a bit too tightly. The doctor had ordered it to stay on Peter’s shoulder, but Peter could tell the cloak wasn’t happy about it. But Peter felt so cold, frozen, and his insides were like mush. He hadn’t vomited again in some time, but he was still going through the sharp pains in his abdomen and his nose would occasionally start gushing. It would start suddenly, and he would be left alone by his body.

 

Loki had been quiet, for a bit of time, but Peter could tell the god was impatient and since he had used Peter’s arms he was fighting the urge to reach for them again. It was as if he could feel Loki’s intentions or desires and Peter wanted to tell him not to touch the fucking controls because if someone took over Peter’s body, he didn’t know if he could psychologically handle that.

 

Finally, the god broke the quiet in Peter’s mind, saying _, “You are frightened of me.”_

“I’m not,” Peter whispered aloud, as he watched Star Lord stomp around in the distance and Mantis was continually trying to placate him. He was still upset about his ship being gone and Drax was nearby, staring at the sky.

 

_“Yes, you are…I feel it.”_

“Well, you feel wrong,” Peter replied, “I’m afraid of you…controlling my arms again. Or my legs. Y-You gotta relax in there, you’re so high strung – “

 

_“Me? Child, you should reevaluate yourself. You are currently a bundle of anxieties.”_

Peter grabbed the side of his head and huffed, lower lip pouting, “Because you’re being mean to me.”

 

_“I’ve done nothing to you. Can you really blame me for being uncomfortable? I cannot move, it’s like I’m in my own body without control. You think me controlling your arms was frightening? Try having it be your current existence. At least you have first choice.”_

Peter rubbed his hands together, suddenly feeling guilty. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes, “I’m sorry…I’m – “

 

“Might I suggest not apologizing to the being that has currently invaded your body?”

 

Peter’s head whipped up and Strange was standing above him. He slowly sat down in front of Peter and Peter could feel that the cloak already wanted to abandon him in favor of its true home, but Strange wasn’t going to allow it and the cloak knew that. He felt Loki’s offense, and he tried to shove it down, only feeling Loki get angry instead.

 

_“Tell him I suggest he go fu –“_

The teen ignored the rest of the order. Strange adjusted himself in his new sitting position and Peter responded to the suggestion, “He uh…He’s just struggling with this whole thing. And It’s kind of my fault he’s in here, not his. I’m the one who grabbed onto him.”

 

“I was meaning to question you about that,” Strange hummed, “You said you stabbed Thanos and that you were placed in a pocket with Loki…But you never said why you had access to the titan.”

 

Peter shrugged lightly, he supposed none of it was a secret anymore as he answered, “Well, Thanos kind of…put me away because he thought I might be useful against my dad. But I… _made_ this mirror…like a gateway to the real world and it helped us.”

 

Doctor Strange didn’t look like he fully understood. Like he was a bit lost, but he was really good at hiding it with intrigue. His hands folded together, and he nodded slowly, but he was frowning, and Peter wished he’d stop staring at him so intently. Like he was an experiment or something. He looked like he wanted to study Peter, but Peter had spent so much time feeling like a bug under a microscope, it made him itch.

 

Finally, the man broke eye contact, “Has your nose bled anymore?”

 

“A little.”

 

“Anymore vomiting?”

 

“No.”

 

Strange hummed again…And Peter was starting to think the quiet was going to last forever. That they were never going to get off Titan and that his mouth would be dry for the rest of his natural life. Doctor Strange blindsided slightly with, “You said someone else was with you inside the stone: who?”

 

Peter startled at that. Honestly, he had been avoiding the topic of Gamora. Mostly because of everything that happened with Star Lord last time she was brought up, and Peter didn’t want to talk about her with him there. There was a sort of guilt he had, because he couldn’t save her, no matter how badly he wished to, she couldn’t be saved. Peter had failed her. She had been left behind and it wasn’t fair, and Star Lord would never get her back and –

 

_“You are torturing yourself,”_ Loki said _, “There was nothing you could have done.”_

Peter swallowed thickly, eyes beginning to burn. He looked away and Doctor Strange’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden emotion that had apparently overtaken the boy. Peter breathed deeply before he tilted his head in the slightest and whispered rather softly, “Someone I couldn’t save…And I’m really sorry I couldn’t.”

 

“Who?” Doctor Strange questioned.

 

Peter bit his lip and blinked over and over to clear his vision as he croaked, “Gamora.”

 

“What about Gamora?”

 

Peter’s head whipped to his left and unfortunately, there stood Star Lord, Mantis, and Drax. They had chosen that moment to approach Peter and the doctor and it was all just very, very unfortunate. Peter’s heart constricted as he looked into Star Lord’s face. The man looked…he looked grieved just by saying the name out loud and Peter felt the urge to reassure him, but he couldn’t. There was nothing to reassure him with because Gamora had been left behind and Peter _couldn’t_ _save_ _her_. He couldn’t do anything to help her, and he gulped, before shaking his head and looking down at his fingers.

 

Star Lord asked again, this time stepping closer, “Gamora was with you?”

 

Peter murmured, “Y-Yeah she…She helped us figure out that we could weaken Thanos inside the Soul Stone…”

 

“So, she’s in there?” Peter jumped when Star Lord kneeled beside him suddenly, completely dropping to his hands and knees. His fingers latched onto Peter’s forearm and Peter scooted away a bit, but Star Lord’s fingers were tight and Doctor Strange leaned forward a bit as if he thought maybe he would have to intervene because of Star Lord’s hysteria/excitement.

 

Peter nodded in confirmation, “She was in there when Loki and I left.”

 

Star Lord breathed out a puff of air, his skin pale and expression shocked. His eyes traveled to Strange and he asked, voice barely understandable because of how quickly he was speaking, “Do you think we can get her out? If the others have the Soul Stone?”

 

“She has no body,” Strange replied, “Reviving her would…be difficult – “

 

Star Lord waved a hand, anger weaving its way into the hopeful expression he was wearing on his face and Peter didn’t know which one was worse, “Ah, who the fuck asked you!?”

 

Drax muttered, “You just asked him.”

 

Star Lord ignored him, looking at Peter once more. He was much too close to Peter’s face for him to be comfortable and Peter could feel Loki wanting to push Star Lord away, because Peter wanted to as well, but he wasn’t going to let Loki reach for his limbs without permission again. It felt too invasive, too unfair, and the world was whirling as Peter’s heart raced and he knew Star Lord’s heart was probably racing too by how wide his eyes were. So wide and full of faith and Peter had nothing to offer but failure because _he hadn’t been able to save Gamora_.

 

“How was she?” Star Lord breathed.

 

Peter chewed the inside of his cheek, a bit of blood spilling from how hard he bit down. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He didn’t know what _to_ say…All of this…this love…it felt very adult and Peter felt out of place being involved with it. He was just hurting and Loki was moving too much, he was making it worse and worse and Peter wanted to go home.

 

_There’s no place like home._

Finally, after ticking moments in silence Peter said, voice hushed, “Really brave.”

 

A small, but sad smile tickled Star Lord’s lips and Peter continued…

 

“She loves you.”

 

Star Lord looked pained, and Peter felt sorry, but Gamora had asked him to tell him and it was the least he could do if that was the last thing she wanted. Peter opened his mouth, wanting to say something to soothe the wounds, but Mantis shouted suddenly, breaking Peter’s focus on every comforting thing he was going to say, “Look!”

 

Everyone’s heads turned where she was pointing. The orange in the sky was breaking to make way for a giant metal object coming down towards them. Peter felt relief flood him slowly, especially when he realized the object was landing slowly, and not plummeting to the planet so quickly that it would almost certainly result in destruction. Peter opened his mouth to laugh, just as Loki’s voice said _, “Well…this will certainly be interesting.”_

Peter didn’t get to laugh…He instead doubled over, and blood rushed up his throat once more, this time covering Star Lord’s shoes.

 

“Ah shit, Baby-Peter!”

 

…

 

Tony had noticed Thor’s lack of words for most of their spaceship fun-ride to Titan.

 

Honestly, no one was doing much talking. Tony supposed it was probably shock…Shock from actually undoing the damage that had been done and the thought of getting to go back to Earth and see those that had been turned to ash alive again. It had been a long several weeks, full of emotional turmoil and they were all just so tired…none of it felt real, and Tony supposed that was the same for everyone, but he felt a particular…pain for Thor.

 

Tony had never been great at empathy, but he knew things couldn’t have been going well within the god’s mind. He had lost everything…and just when he had gotten a glimmer of hope, it had been snatched away by the fact that his brother wasn’t coming back. Tony watched Thor silently, where he was seated near the window, staring out, eyes glazed over and exhausted.

 

Tony pushed himself to his feet and slowly approached him, not really knowing what he planned on saying, but he took the seat beside Thor nonetheless, and Thor glanced over, acknowledging him with a small smile, but it seemed very forced and tired. Thor greeted, “Ah, Stark…I suppose you are very ready for us to arrive, yes?”

 

“Hell yes,” Tony said, before he paused and went on, “Honestly, I’m ready to grab my kid and run. No offense to any of you, but this has been quite the shit show.”

 

Thor laughed, and it only sounded half-way genuine, “It was, wasn’t it? But we did it…We were victorious, and the sun has shone on us again…”

 

The god flexed his fingers, his voice dropping off and Tony honestly had never seen such emotion on his face. He had seen anger, glee, but never this sort of despair. It was like he had been dropped a thousand feet, his entire personality and heart plummeting with the pain. His entire world had caved in, and maybe Loki had been his last hope of having anything back. Tony swallowed thickly, and tried to find words.

 

“Listen…” Tony whispered, “I’m sorry, you know? I’m really sorry about…your brother.”

 

As much as Tony hated Loki for New York, he considered Thor his friend and it had obviously struck him deeply. Thor looked at him, and another smile was forced, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Thor patted Tony on the shoulder, and to Tony’s surprise it wasn’t as heavy as it usually was, it was gentler, and it didn’t make Tony’s teeth jar.

 

“Do not apologize,” Thor replied, “I’ve lost my brother before…And I survived it. I shall survive this as well. He would be pleased with our victory, there is no doubt in my mind about that…And if he helped your son succeed that is enough redemption for me.”

 

Maybe it wasn’t for Tony, but if Loki truly did help Peter, he was grateful. Old grudges died hard he supposed, and Tony was about to say something else when Nebula called from the controls, “We are approaching. Situate yourselves.”

 

Tony looked forward, through the front glass.

 

He saw the familiar planet, the one that haunted his nightmares, covered in the dirt he had washed from his body upon returning to Earth so many weeks ago…The dirt that had stained the shower, that had stained his clothes, that had caked under his fingernails with crusted blood and Tony’s chest felt like fire and he took several deep breaths. He was angry with himself for being afraid to return, because his son was there. He was angry with himself for many, many things. Tony couldn’t tell if he was on the verge of throwing something or having a panic attack.

 

_“You people with hearts,” he said once, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful.”_


	9. Charlotte's Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stared at him. A long quiet moment passed until he ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, the sound echoing across the empty terrain. He almost seemed melancholy, in an odd way that Peter couldn’t place. But the god shuffled nonetheless, and replied, “Your faith never ceases, and I cannot decide it it’s humorous or execution worthy.”
> 
> “Both,” Peter provided.
> 
> Loki reiterated, “Both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR WAITING PATIENTLY FOR THIS CHAPTER! I'm finally back from Disney and I'm so happy to get back to work on this! I love you all so much and I hope you enjoy! ❤❤❤

Tony had never liked words.

 

Even as a child, words had been something of a problem. Not just spoken ones, but written ones. His father’s face appeared on the covers of so many magazines, there were always scandalous stories, lies, but sometimes they were the truth and those were the ones that Tony found himself distrusting more and more and more. He hadn’t even liked being forced to read stories as a kid in elementary, they were lies, and no one could really say how they felt if it was written or spoken.

 

_Trust me, Wilbur. People are very gullible. They’ll believe anything they see in print._

No, Tony had always been more attached to actions. Actions said so much more than words ever could. Remembering something about someone or doing something for someone else, and maybe it was Tony’s own short comings that made him distrust words, because he had said a lot in his life, said he would do a lot, said he loved a lot of people, but it never amounted to much of anything. Words told lies. Actions usually didn’t.

 

It was much harder to go back on an action.

 

So, when the ship landed on Titan…when they touched down on the planet’s soil…Tony had thought of all the words he wanted to say to his kid, but they weren’t good, and he couldn’t string together a comprehendible thought through the shouting that was going on inside of his mind. It was like everything inside of him was screaming and screaming and screaming **_attention_**. Worry, anxiety, fear that his son would turn to ash again in his arms, but even so, when the ship opened, Tony was the first one off, along with Rocket.

 

He could already see a small group, not far from the ship. Tony really tried to just walk. He tried to take short, slow strides, but his heart was pounding so fast it felt like he was going to fall out right there on that stupid planet, that he was trying so hard to ignore as he focused. He saw Drax first, since he was the largest, eyes moving down the line to Mantis, then Quill and on the ground was Doctor Strange and…Peter.

 

Peter…his kid…who was being held in a sitting position by the doctor.

 

That was when Tony moved fast. That was when his strides became so wide, he had crossed the area in a matter of seconds. Rocket was struggling to keep up with him and he didn’t know if the others had followed them out of the ship, but Tony was picking up speed and by the time he made it to his son…his fucking son who was right there, solid and physical and alive, he had to slide to a stop, before dropping down to his knees in front of the boy. Peter was pale, face gleaming with sweat, but he was breathing and it was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

 

Peter looked at him, with wide eyes and Doctor Strange moved just enough to allow Tony access. He grabbed Peter’s face, and Peter was just staring, silently, and Tony noticed the dried blood around his mouth and nose. He pushed the boy’s hair off his forehead to get a good look at him. Like he was trying to reassure himself that Peter was real, and he could hear Rocket had approached, hear him reunite with his own crew, but Tony didn’t bother looking back at them, he just stared at his kid.

 

“Fuck,” Tony breathed and as far as word choice goes, it wasn’t the best thing to say in front of his son upon his return to life. Tony released his face and wrapped him in a tight embrace, tucking Peter’s head under his chin and he didn’t even try to be gentle in the hold, he just squeezed like it was the only thing keeping Peter alive.

 

It was like seeing Peter again for the first time. Believing him to be the most beautiful and perfect child to ever exist. A life altering experience, and Tony had never been perfect, but he wouldn’t have wanted to not have Peter, so despite not being the best father he felt he had done the right thing. Peter was one of the only right decisions he had ever made in his life and now he had him again.

 

He noticed Peter was wearing Strange’s cloak, as he ran his hand up and down the boy’s back, just to reassure himself that Peter wasn’t turning to dust right in front of him. Peter’s arms, shakily, almost as if hesitantly, snaked around Tony’s back and hugged. The boy was trembling, and Tony heard a quiet sniffle and maybe a little sob, but Peter’s face was hidden in his chest, so he wasn’t sure if Peter was crying, but he had a feeling the boy was. Peter went lax in his arms and there was silence.

 

Finally…Finally Tony could breathe again.

 

There were so many things Tony wanted to say, but words were letting him down and he couldn’t seem to hold Peter tight enough. He worried he might break him, but Peter was after all stronger than him, had been that way since the bite. Peter was able to withstand Thanos literally slamming him into the ground during their first encounter. He’d probably be alright with Tony holding onto him like a lifeline.

 

When Tony did pull away though, and he put a hand on the side of Peter’s face, he saw the boy’s eyes were red and teary and Peter was biting his lower lip, probably to stop himself from crying more.

 

“You’re alright,” Tony whispered, unable to draw much air into his lungs, “God you’re…”

 

Tony didn’t say he thought Peter was gone forever. Because there was this silent understanding that Peter had never given up hope on Tony coming for him, and Tony didn’t want to be the one that said ‘basically I thought you were dead forever, I lost hope’ because that wasn’t fair. He wished he could have an ounce of the optimism that lived inside of Peter. It had to have been Mary and Pepper that had instilled that, because it certainly wasn’t Tony.

 

And that was only confirmed when Peter croaked, “I knew you’d come.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony smiled a little, running his fingers through Peter’s matted curls, “Sometimes…you’re such a know it all.”

 

Peter sniffled, but laughed, even if it came out weakly. The boy rubbed his eyes and he said, “You guys did awesome…I know I didn’t see it, but I know you did…It’s always awesome.”

 

Tony shook his head, “You did better than any of us, kid.”

 

Tony’s eyes briefly wandered to Doctor Strange who was still leaning close, hand gripping one of Peter’s arms, as if holding some of the boy’s weight. Tony’s brows furrowed together, a sort of confusion at the action, and he studied Peter’s face a little closer. Sure, his eyes were teary and bloodshot, but Tony’s mind also shifted to the earlier observation of the dried blood around Peter’s nose and mouth. The boy looked exhausted, more so than the others, and worry immediately crept in.

 

Because of course…Nothing could ever be easy.

 

“Hey,” Tony started, voice almost…afraid. Because he knew what he was about to ask…he knew the kind of can of worms it could open, but nothing could be worse than the past few weeks of having a child turned into ash. Nothing could ruin the fact that Peter was safely in his grasp once more. He continued slowly, “Are you alright?”

 

Peter stared at him…just stared and said nothing, mouth closed and breathing a bit heavy. His brown eyes lowered to look at the ground, as if he was about to be scolded, shamefully, and Tony looked at Doctor Strange with a questioning expression, begging for answers, but not doing so outright because Tony Stark didn’t beg. Doctor Strange looked at Peter as well, maybe hoping Peter would say something, but when nothing was offered, Strange sighed.

 

“He seems to have picked up a…” Doctor Strange paused, pondering, before he continued, “Hitchhiker.”

 

Peter’s head snapped up, looking slightly horrified. Peter croaked, “That’s…That’s not the right way to say it.”

 

“Then what is the right way?” Doctor Strange asked.

 

Peter said nothing, just stared with wide, frightened – blown panic. Tony’s hand tightened a bit on the teen’s shoulder and he questioned, “What does he mean?”

 

The boy still didn’t look at Tony and Strange provided simply, “Loki, the God of Mischief, I suspect you remember him?”

 

Tony nodded slowly. He definitely didn’t like where this was going.

 

“Well,” Strange concluded, “He is sharing Peter’s body with him…When Thanos’ actions were reversed, apparently both of them returned from the Soul Stone together and took residence inside of Peter.”

 

That was when a horror filled silence came in. Even the Guardians behind Tony had gone quiet and the man turned slightly, seeing that the other Avengers had approached as well without him noticing. They all stood, looking shell-shocked and Peter looked up at them, and if it was possible, he paled even more upon the realization that they had all heard what Strange had said. Tony wanted to say something. Wanted to tell them to get away, because suddenly this whole reunion thing had turned sour and Tony wanted to scream his head off at whatever was controlling the universe because this…this was just pissing him off at this point. He didn’t understand why he and his son couldn’t be left alone.

 

However, the only person who didn’t look completely horrified by the thought of the god of mischief taking up residence inside of Tony’s sixteen-year-old was Thor. He stepped forward, and even though he seemed surprised, his expression looked more hopeful than anything. He questioned, looking at Peter directly in the eyes, “Loki is…sharing your body?”

 

Peter’s throat bobbed, and Tony so wanted him to shake his head no…but it nodded up and down and Tony shut his eyes. Thor let out a shocked laugh, but Tony leaned forward, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss to the side of Peter’s head, as if anguish were forcing him to prepare for the worst. Peter looked at him, and the boy muttered, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t say sorry,” Tony ordered, “It isn’t _your_ fault.”

 

Peter shook his head, “It is. It’s my fault – “

 

“I hate to break up this in-depth conversation,” Rocket’s voice interrupted, and Tony was tempted to turn and break his neck, “But, we need to get back to your planet.”

 

Peter looked at the raccoon, face suddenly shocked. His head snapped backward, and he questioned, voice raising in pitch and cracking slightly, “Did that raccoon just talk!?”

 

Star Lord waved a hand dismissively, “He does that.”

 

“He just does that?” Peter questioned, “H-He just _talks_?”

 

“Alright enough,” Doctor Strange snapped harshly, silencing everyone. He looked amongst the group, they had grown, and there were too many people around them in Tony’s opinion. Peter shifted slightly in the dirt and Doctor Strange continued, “The… _raccoon_ is right. We need to get back to Earth and figure out something to do about the boy and Loki. I think the invasive presence is becoming too much for Peter’s body.”

 

He looked at Tony blatantly and continued, “He’s extremely weak and has been exhibiting signs of internal bleeding, but I suspect that’s not the case. It’s Loki’s doing, maybe not intentionally, but he is causing a problem.”

 

Peter flinched suddenly, and Tony’s head whipped in his direction, asking, “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter whispered, eyes closed, “He just…he talks sometimes…and it hurts.”

 

Tony glared darkly, “Well, tell him to shut the fuck up.”

 

Peter’s eyes snapped open wide in shock, his pupils growing. Thor squeezed through and Tony looked up at him, feeling something that resembled a form of irritation because he just wanted a moment. He wanted a moment to sit with Peter and to pretend that none of this was happening. That he had finally gotten his son back and the world wasn’t being shaken again because some asshole had invaded his kid’s body.

 

Though he knew his son wasn’t fragile, sometimes he still saw him as four-years-old desperate for protection.

 

He still saw the kid that would follow him around the house and Tony would have to be careful not to step on him in the process. Because sometimes, Peter was right under his feet. Always under his feet, marching along. Kids had no sense of personal space, and Tony had found it irritating early on, but it eventually became second nature and honestly, even as a teenager, Peter still sometimes did it.

 

Here was this kid who needed him. But didn’t need him, all at the same time.

 

Thor was offering a hand to Peter, and Peter took it slowly, his expression grateful maybe even a bit starstruck as it often was when Thor was around. But the God of Thunder assisted Peter in standing, and there was this moment of silence, while everyone watched and maybe they hadn’t even realized what they were watching for exactly because it was a split second of nothingness but breathing, but then the world shattered into an odd sort of chaos.

 

Peter’s nose started bleeding first. Slowly sliding down his face and Tony’s brows furrowed as he stood as well, stepping forward to get a closer look, but before he could touch the boy’s face, Peter’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head and his knees crumbled. Peter was sent towards the ground and Tony hooked his hands under the kid’s arms to catch most of the weight, and both hit the ground hard together in a heap.

 

Tony couldn’t believe Peter had once been small enough to hold.

 

He called the kid’s name over and over, but it was no use, Peter was out.

 

Then everyone was moving.

 

But Tony was frozen.

 

He had only just gotten his son back alive, but he wondered how long that would last. And suddenly that burning hatred for Loki was reawakened like it had never even died. Maybe it wasn’t even the god’s fault, but Tony wasn’t going to blame his son, he couldn’t. Because Peter could go away at any moment and PTSD came back with vengeance. Every coping strategy he had ever learned went up in the flames and Tony hated himself…Just as much as he hated the god.

 

For a guy that helped put Thanos in the Soul Stone, he sure was a shitty hero.

 

He couldn’t even protect his own kid from a monster within himself. And when Tony’s eyes found Thor’s, he looked sorry, sorry for what his brother’s presence was apparently doing, and Tony wondered if Loki could hear and speak while Peter was unconscious, but Tony had the urge to tell the god to fuck off and get the hell out of his child. To share a body with his own brother, maybe with a body that could withstand sharing such space.

 

They helped Tony lift the kid, going towards the ship…

 

And once again, words failed him.

 

…

 

Peter believed in good things.

 

He believed, wholeheartedly, in goodness. In kindness. In the effectiveness of a gentle hand. He supposed sometimes, it made him terribly naïve. Especially when it came to noticing the true nature of others. But there was a way it had always benefited him, and that way was sometimes hard to see. It was hard to focus in on, because he was blind to it in some moments, and not so much in the next.

 

Peter believed in friendship.

 

And honestly, he considered Loki to be a friend at that point. The thing about guys who tried to destroy New York, they didn’t typically get redemption, and maybe Peter was being purposefully ignorant, but he felt like he had a good feel for the kind of person Loki was, and he didn’t feel evil or wrong or cruel. He felt…dark sometimes. Sometimes he felt like a rain cloud, but then again so had Eeyore.

 

So when Doctor Strange had explained to Peter’s father about Loki and he had seen the look on the man’s face…it had felt something like a punch to the gut. Because he didn’t want anyone to blame Loki for the actions Peter himself had set into motion. He had grabbed onto Loki. It had been him…and he had dragged him into the living world even though he had known it wasn’t the right thing to do…But the thought of just abandoning his new-found friends had been so heavy, on top of everything, and Peter still missed Gamora.

 

 But then there had been nothing for some time.

 

Peter didn’t know how much time had passed from when the world faded suddenly into blackness. When he had felt the warmth of more blood on his face, everything had gone dark and he hadn’t seen anything for several moments until the world yanked into focus and he found himself on the ground of some kind of dark room…Over him was a shadow, standing, slouched, and there were no walls, just…like a night sky and a chill ran over Peter’s body as he looked up and saw Loki standing over him.

 

He had seen movies where people woke in their subconscious, in a world like this, but Peter had always just assumed that was fiction. Unfortunately, this was very real, and very vivid, and Loki’s eyes looked tired and yet still had the power to be annoyed. Peter wondered if the god ever tired of being frustrated with Peter. Peter wondered a lot of things about him.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the opposite of a body snatcher,” Loki huffed, almost like a petulant teenager, “Really is inconvenient of you to collapse during one of the most confusing situations I have ever been involved with.”

 

Peter sputtered and didn’t get the chance to respond before Loki continued sharply, “Your father will probably have me vacuumed out of here in the meantime and we’ll have no forewarning. I’m as good as dead if he believes I’m harming you…which may be true, but none of this has been intentional on my part.”

 

“No!” Peter finally found words, “He’s not going to hurt you, Mister Loki. I promise, I won’t let him…We’re friends, remember?”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow, “Your father doesn’t share the same sentiment.”

 

“Well, this is _my_ subconscious…or brain or whatever, he can’t get to you without my permission.”

 

The god scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, “That is not how this works. If your father wants me removed, he will find a way…Either it be with the use of my brother or that silly magician. He’ll shred me to pieces...He will stop at nothing to save you, and if it means sacrificing your trust to cure the ailment my presence is causing, then he will do it. There is no doubt in my mind.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Peter said, “He wouldn’t do that.”

 

Loki stared at him. A long quiet moment passed until he ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, the sound echoing across the empty terrain. He almost seemed melancholy, in an odd way that Peter couldn’t place. But the god shuffled nonetheless, and replied, “Your faith never ceases, and I cannot decide it it’s humorous or execution worthy.”

 

“Both,” Peter provided.

 

Loki reiterated, “Both.”

 

Then, as if Peter had never been there, he was waking. Waking and waking and waking, and it had never felt so hard to do so before, or at least Peter thought so. He could have been wrong, but the conversation with Loki felt like one of those dreams where he couldn’t remember the entire plot once he woke up. A vague thing in the past, that childhood amnesia, shoved in the back of his mind with the dream-memories and Agent Coulson. With gunshots and Hydra agents and lots of other things. His first Christmas with his father, the one where his dad had been anxious in a way a four-year-old couldn’t decipher, but Peter could now with a sea of toys.

 

Peter heard voices first, but they weren’t making sense. More so they were murmurs in the distance, dropping in an out and Peter hummed quietly, turning his head slightly to the side and then back up again. His eyelids fluttered open and he was staring up at a dark ceiling and the soft light, even being dim, felt like too much and it burned just slightly.

 

It was like an empty sky, only a moon, when it would curve into the windshield at night and they were driving, and it would confuse his insides as to whether it was night or day. And if moons could lie, couldn’t Peter? He had lied about Spider-Man, and lying seemed better, but he knew when he woke fully, he could not lie about Loki. Doctor Strange had already ratted him out on that subject.

 

Had he been given the option though, almost shamefully, he would have chosen to lie to protect his new friend.

 

Because that was what Loki was.

 

He was a friend.

 

Something wrapped tightly around his hand suddenly, causing him to startle and then a figure was leaning over him into his line of vision. Peter’s body stiffened, the face blurred, until his eyes focused and above him he processed was his father’s face. His heart fluttered, rising into his chest and formed a lump, and he wanted to cry all over again. It was that joy and relief that flooded in, a reassurance that Titan had not been a dream and that his father had in fact come to rescue him. Just as Peter had always known he would.

 

Peter let out a startled laugh, eyes burning once more, and he pulled his hand from his father’s and poked the side of the man’s face, almost tentatively. He looked slightly confused by the action, brows pulling downward, but Peter didn’t believe that making sense in that moment would benefit either of them and he just wanted to know he was Real. Usually Real things hurt, but not this one. His father was the most amazing person ever and Peter was so happy.

 

His laugh turned into a sob and Peter whispered, “I-I’m sorry…I’m not trying to cry again…”

 

His eyes averted and he continued, “I can’t help it.”

 

Peter couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so small. Where he was lying, it was soft, and he felt warm, and when he lifted his head a bit he could see a heavy blanket placed over him. They were in a small room, alone, just the two of them, so crying seemed okay but he still didn’t really want to cry in front of his father. His body ached in a way he didn’t recognize, almost like an after-work out pain but also more intense. A pulled muscle.

 

“That’s okay,” His father’s voice reassured, “That’s okay just…don’t sit up…Lie back.”

 

But Peter wanted to sit up. His father was kneeling beside the bed he was lying on, and he looked relatively uncomfortable because it was so close to the floor. Peter went to push himself onto his elbows, and there was something funny about doing the exact opposite of what his dad wanted, but the man didn’t look entertained in the slightest. Peter’s arms wobbled slightly, and he shook, gritting his teeth. He felt so heavy for some reason, like his bones had turned to metal.

 

He realized his shaking was shivering, he was incredibly cold, but he felt like he was sweating. Like having a fever, which he supposed he did, but he didn’t have the energy to ask. Eventually, with much exerted effort, he was all the way up, his father assisting him with a tight grip on both of his upper arms. He leaned back against the cold wall behind himself, the mattress feeling less welcoming and soft than before. His eyes glanced around the small room, and he looked to be in someone’s bedroom. There were random objects scattered about, personalized, and he wondered where he was exactly. His father pressed a hand to the side of his face, and then to his forehead and Peter’s attention was drawn to him a moment and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch just slightly…just enough to not be noticed.

 

Peter asked, “Are we going home…?”

 

His father nodded, smiling softly, but it also looked like a grimace, “Yeah buddy, we’re on Quill’s ship. He was ‘hospitable’ enough to let you stay in his quarters but he warned not to let you puke on anything else he owns.”

 

Peter nodded, throat feeling swollen, and eyes still burning with tears, but he didn’t know why. Everything felt like so much, and he really was tired of crying. But his entire body ached, and he could feel his blood pounding in his skull with each beat of his heart. Loki’s presence was there, but he wasn’t speaking and maybe it was to provided Peter with some kind of relief from the pain that his voice so often caused.

 

He looked at his dad, taking in his tired face. Peter had never noticed how old his father looked. Sometimes Peter forgot he aged too, but he had spent almost every day with his father since he was four, and it’s hard to notice someone aging. Peter wondered if his father felt the same way about him, and maybe he figured his dad still saw him as a baby, because he often treated him like something small. Of course, sixteen compared to forty-eight, he supposed he was quite young compared to his dad. He looked different now though, older, his face bruised and his eyes dimmer than before Peter had turned to ash. He supposed that was his fault. All of this was his fault. The pain and suffering, and words were failing Peter. He couldn’t find anything that would make up for his absence.

 

So slowly, he reached out, and grabbed at the man’s shirt, like his fingers had once done when he was small. He held on tightly, like he was going to go away at any moment and he watched the dimness and bleakness leave his dad’s eyes in favor of something softer. Kinder. His dad pushed his matted hair off his forehead and he said, “It’s going to be okay…We’re going to get home…and we’re going to find a way to get him out of you.”

 

“But…” Peter croaked, “W-We have to find a way to do it without…losing him, Dad. We have to find somewhere to move him…a-a body or something – “

 

Then the softness left his dad’s face, replaced by fierceness, “Peter, he’s a parasite. Stop talking like you owe him something, he’s literally _killing_ you. This is the same guy that murdered countless of people in New York, I don’t give a shit what he wants or what Thor has to say, I have no compunction about tearing him out of you and leaving him to rot.”

 

Peter cringed back, eyes wide with betrayal and he felt Loki jolt as the god hissed angrily, _“Told you.”_

“He doesn’t mean that,” Peter thought in return, “He can’t mean that, Mister Loki.”

 

Peter’s vision blurred with tears and he sniffled slightly, looking at the wall and trying to blink them away. His chest constricted with a sob, and he looked back at his dad, seeing regret instantly paint into the man’s features. Peter whispered weakly, “He’s my friend.”

 

His father looked startled at that. Like being punched in the face and that eventually mutated into sudden fear. Peter felt his father wrap his arms around him, and yeah he was crying, but he felt like he had the right to cry when his dad was threatening to kill his new friend and his body was being tortured. The man ran a hand over his back and sighed, sounding slightly annoyed and sometimes his father struggled with compassion when things weren’t going the way he so desired.

 

“Of course, you’d be the one to befriend a homicidal asshole.”

 

Peter didn’t even have the energy to laugh, because he knew that his dad was still set on getting Loki out of him, even if it meant killing the god in the process. He struggled to get air into his lungs, at the thought. His father sometimes had those homicidal tendencies as well, it was like a darkness…a ruthlessness lurking in him. Something Peter rarely came in contact with because it was violent, something his dad had tried to hide from him many times and sometimes he was startled to realize his father wasn’t a flawless superhero, he had killed people and Loki was just in the way, and he really wouldn’t feel bad about killing him, even if Peter was attached to Loki.

 

Then there was fear. He loved his dad so much, and he was ecstatic to be with him again, but he knew his father wasn’t going to let Loki’s presence suck the life out of him and suddenly he was very afraid of what his father was going to do. Peter had never truly feared his dad before, but he did in that moment and it made it hard to relax in his father’s embrace. Peter turned his head, temple resting on the man’s arm and he stared at the wall, asking through his trembling voice, “How far are we?”

 

Maybe it was to gauge how much time he had to make a decision. He didn’t think he had enough energy to run, but he’d have to find some way to save Loki from his dad. Maybe not run away, but maybe just enough time to figure out an argument on how to save him. He could probably get Thor on his side, but would the others? It’d be like a trial, he’d need some way to convince them, something drastic if it came to it.

 

“We’re not far, we’re going to land in Wakanda…you’ve been asleep for a while. Pepper will be waiting for us…she missed you.”

 

The boy was relieved to hear that Pepper hadn’t turned to ash. That his father hadn’t been left alone completely. Peter bit his lip, “And everyone else? People who were dusted, will they be there?”

 

“Besides those we lost before, yes…Everyone will be waiting.”

 

Peter pushed himself up, pulling out of the hug as he questioned, eyes wide and terrified, “Who did we lose?”

 

His father, Peter could tell, was hesitating. He cleared his throat and looked away just a moment before explaining, “Thanos…killed Vision. Apparently, they buried his body before I got back to Earth. Took some time because of some damage to the ship, about two weeks when it should have only taken a few hours at this speed. So, he won’t be back when we arrive.”

 

Anguish filtered in…God…Wanda…

 

Peter jumped suddenly when the door to the room slid open, making a whooshing sound like something out of Star Wars. When he looked over, he saw Doctor Strange standing in the doorway, holding a dark flask. He entered without any prompting and Peter’s father sat up a little straighter as he commented, “Right, just waltz in.”

 

Doctor Strange promptly ignored Peter’s dad and kneeled beside the bed to Peter’s right. He held out the flask and ordered, “Drink. You need fluids.”

 

Peter hesitated just slightly as he took the metal flask. Peter paused and Doctor Strange pushed it towards his face, “It’s just water.”

 

That was fine. Peter tilted it back and gulped it down in seconds. He had forgotten how thirsty he was on Titan. He coughed slightly when he finished, causing his father to grab his shoulder, as if he thought he was going to vomit again. Doctor Strange took the flask once more, and Peter blinked rapidly when the doctor gripped his face, turning it from side to side, and Peter’s father snapped, “A little rough there, aren’t we doc?”

 

“His pupils are dilated,” Doctor Strange murmured, more to himself than anything and Peter’s father leaned forward as well to look at him. Peter leaned backward, away from the two of them. He felt crowded suddenly. The room was so much smaller, and he looked away. Doctor Strange continued, “Could be due to the stress on his body…I won’t know until we can run more in-depth tests.”

 

Peter’s father responded, “Sorry, I don’t know if I want a witch doctor running tests on my kid.”

 

“Well, you haven’t got many options,” Doctor Strange glared, “Unless you would like Doctor Banner to look him over, but even then, he probably isn’t the most educated on removing souls from bodies.”

 

The other man raised an eyebrow, “And you are?”

 

“I can be,” Doctor Strange hummed, “Wong can more than likely find us something to go on in the old texts.”

 

Peter could feel exhaustion rising, but it was interrupted when the ship jolted slightly. The door to their room slid open and Peter blinked at Doctor Banner who appeared in the doorway. He was gripping it, looking slightly green, but not in a Hulk way and he said, “We’re landing soon. About to reenter the atmosphere.”

 

The boy didn’t know what he had imagined about the landing. Maybe something rough, like crashing into the ocean in a tiny pod or something, like all of the space documentaries he had seen, but he supposed futuristic ships probably didn’t crash land very often. He wondered why people from space were so ahead of them in technology but maybe if his father had enjoyed the idea of space more he would have created something like it. As far as landing from outer space went though, it was gentle and touching down was softer than landing an airplane.

 

He hadn’t even needed to buckle in and for a moment, both his father and Doctor Strange left him alone in the room. He sat on the bed, in silence and he didn’t know what they were doing or why he was told to wait. Peter held the blanket close to his chest, still shivering slightly as he fought the urge to throw up again. He didn’t want to do that, not vomit all of his water up.

 

Peter supposed he should have been hungry, but he wasn’t.

 

_“You know…I have a very awful inkling that all of this is about to turn vile.”_

Loki’s voice echoed around in his head and Peter muttered, “It’s going to be okay. My dad just needs some time to cool off, he’s just – I mean, you know, I just came back and everything. He just needs a minute to not be so scared anymore. Everyone does.”

 

The god laughed, but it sounded disturbed _, “Stark will not recover from this anytime soon, boy. You are in for several more years of smothering, I can already see it. He has the maternal tendencies of a crazed bear.”_

“You’re overreacting.”

 

_“Am I? I could have sworn you had the same thought earlier, when you were considering whether you could run away without killing yourself.”_

Peter blinked, “Don’t- _Don’t_ do that, okay? Don’t listen to what I’m thinking.”

 

_“Well, you’re extremely emotional. Your thoughts aren’t exactly whispers.”_

That, he could believe. Peter tugged on the blanket again, anxiously. He considered suddenly, the only way he was going to be able to keep Loki alive was to be argumentative and sometimes it was hard to do with his father. Especially when it came to something so serious. But he was sixteen, he should be able to decide whether or not they remove Loki before they find some other alternative. And Thor wouldn’t want his brother dead.

 

The door reopened then, and Peter’s head whipped in its direction. He barely had time to process who was standing in the doorway then, before he was being wrapped in a tight embrace, a familiar perfume filling his nose and he peeked over the person’s shoulder at his father who was still in the doorway. Long curls fell down the person’s back and Peter grinned, genuinely, maybe for the first time in a while as he returned the hug.

 

Pepper.

 

And that warm embrace took the pain away, just momentarily. Even Loki relaxed a bit.

 

…

 

Tony suddenly felt the pain of parents all over the world who had terminally ill children.

 

That was what it felt like, watching the doctors in the palace hook wires and needles to Peter’s body. An IV was started, as he had already slipped into dehydration, along with a mild sedative, just something to keep him under until they could figure out exactly what the hell they were going to do. Or where to even start for that matter, because Peter was one of those cases where no one knew what test to run, what to check for, because they knew the god’s presence was what was causing the bleeding, and the pain, but the fixing it was where the questions came in. The ethics of it and honestly, Tony didn’t give a shit about Loki, but people – Thor – did and so did his son, so both of those things posed a problem in Tony’s knee-jerk-decision to get Loki out of his son as soon as possible without many questions as to whether or not it would kill the god or send him back into the stone.

 

The stone where Thanos was still lurking. Where Tony’s fears were still alive.

 

They had managed to get the kid out of the suit though and changed into some scrubs and got the Titan dirt washed out of his hair. He almost looked like himself again, if all the color wasn’t drained from his face. But when he was sleeping, more so sedated in the med-bay bed, his face looking more peaceful and less pained, he seemed like Peter. The Peter from before the snap anyway, and Tony was having trouble remembering what that Peter even looked like anymore. All he could think about was the Peter he had lost and the one he had found. One turning to ash and another vomiting up blood.

 

Bruce stood over the bed, staring at several of the monitors. It was just him and Tony at that point, though Tony knew everyone was convening downstairs, all of their returned friends reuniting together and things were supposed to be happy, but Tony only felt dread. Terror had a way of grabbing Tony so tightly sometimes, like a vice in his stomach, twisting and right then that was all he felt and he so desired to find Pepper, to tell her of his worries, but the mission now was to save Peter from what was inside of him.

 

Tony supposed Thor wouldn’t have left the hospital room if they hadn’t sedated Peter. But there was no physical Loki to see and when Peter was sleeping there was no one ask for a ‘Loki translation’. Tony had yet to share his intentions of removing the god, and doing what he had to do to save Peter, because he didn’t want to risk a repeat of Ultron, with the god of Thunder grabbing him by the neck like that one time.

 

He shifted on his feet slightly, glancing up at the ceiling.

 

“He looks stable for now,” Bruce’s voice filtered in, “I think as long as we have him on the IV and keep a close eye on his vitals, he should be okay. Or…it’ll at least buy us time to figure out a more permanent solution.”

 

Tony approached, hands in his pockets as he gestured to the boy, “And so what do we know? Loki is what, eating his insides or something? What the fuck is going on?”

 

“Well, I’m not exactly…a professional on this sort of things,” Suddenly Doctor Strange’s words were ringing true as Bruce went on, “But, it seems to be something like that. Maybe not intentional, but his presence is definitely putting a strain on Peter’s body. I’m sure there’s some sort of mystical explanation, but as of right now, I’m lost. The way his body is reacting has no medical diagnosis.”

 

“Which is exactly why I have Wong on his way here as you speak,” Doctor Strange’s voice filtered in, and Tony turned to see the man in the doorway. He felt a sort of annoyance rising up. He didn’t have much patience for someone with an ego as big as his own at the moment and butting heads with the wizard had been irritating at best in the past. Not to mention the entire ordeal with sacrificing the stone, and he supposed it had to be that way, but he still wanted to kick the wizard where the sun didn’t shine for good measure.

 

Tony asked, “And does Wong have some kind of diagnosis that we don’t?”

 

“He has ancient texts,” Strange answered, entering further and approaching the bed, eyes scanning the monitors, “Texts that we can use to our advantage. The human body was not meant to withstand two souls, especially not the corrupt soul of the god of mischief. Even if the boy is mutated, he isn’t strong enough to withstand such stress. Said mutation is probably the only thing keeping him alive at this point.”

 

Tony shifted, glaring slightly at the use of ‘mutation’. Even if that was what it was. Strange pointed at the screen and commented, “His blood pressure is low. Probably from all the bleeding…that’s our biggest concern right now, and the fact that he seems to be having trouble keeping anything down.”

 

“The IV should help,” Bruce said, “If all else fails, we’ll do a transfusion…But I don’t know how well he’ll do because his DNA is so altered…There’s a risk of his body rejecting whatever we give him.”

 

Tony was hearing this, but it was filtering through, burning in his mind like fire and he had the urge to shake his son until Loki was a mass of nothing. He had thought the god was a demon of the past, yet he was here, and even if he had helped Peter escape the Soul Stone, he didn’t care. Not anymore. His stomach lurched and Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, sighing deeply.

 

Tony questioned sharply, “So out of those millions of futures you saw, none of them told you how to fix this shit?”

 

Doctor Strange looked at him, maybe a bit startled.

 

“I did not foresee this,” Strange admitted, maybe a bit bleakly, “The Time Stone isn’t always reliable. Futures change and are altered, and I don’t see every aspect of each timeline. I saw you…and I knew your survival was key. The boy wasn’t a factor…At least I had assumed he wasn’t. I wasn’t shown the events taking place within the Soul Stone.”

 

Tony’s eyes narrowed, “Could’ve been something that you shared with the rest of the class, you know? Instead of just turning to dust and leaving us wondering what the shit we were supposed to be doing.”

 

“Don’t be so crass,” Strange rolled his eyes, before focusing again on the child in the bed, “I suppose I had thought you were the one important to saving the universe, but it could have been that you and the boy were a lock and key of sorts. This is something I am not experienced in, but I have always enjoyed challenges.”

 

Bruce nodded, “Stephen Strange…I’ve read some of your medical journals. I’m not surprised that after your accident you found other ways to be productive.”

 

Strange smiled slightly and shrugged. Tony figured it was the first time he had ever seen the man look even remotely pleased. He nodded, “Well, I’m glad to know someone such as Bruce Banner has been reading – “

 

“Alright stop gushing over each other,” Tony cut in, “When will Wong be here?”

 

Strange glared, “In the next few hours. He’s going through the texts.”

 

Tony sighed. When he wanted something fixed, he typically wanted it done quickly. A few hours felt too long, especially when having his child sedated. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure appear in the doorway and he turned enough to see Steve there. Tony crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Ah, Spangles. How is everyone faring?”

 

“They’re fine,” Though Steve’s voice sounded somewhat…solemn, “Wanda is…Well, she’s holding up. As well as can be expected anyway. But everyone is just happy to see each other, even if Sam won’t admit it, he’s pretty happy as well.”

 

Tony would have thought that’d be Barnes, but he figured Steve wasn’t going to mention Barnes in front of him. Hard feelings died well, hard. And Tony wasn’t quite ready to make amends with the guy who had killed both of his parents. Sometimes he thought of that night Peter had come home bloodied after his encounter with Toomes. About what he had said about Barnes and it not being his fault, and if even if child could see that, Tony supposed he should too, but the day had been too trying to even consider it at this point. Peter was priority, not relations.

 

Steve went on without prompting, “Clint is itching to get home…I think he’ll be leaving in the next hour, he just went to call Laura.”

 

“Laura,” Tony echoed, “First name basis?”

 

Steve only shrugged at the comment, his eyes flickering towards Peter’s sleeping form only a moment, but he said nothing about it. Sometimes, it seemed he had yet to remove that distance that had arrived after Germany. A blockade, and Tony wasn’t going to remove it or pacify him. Things were shitty all over, not just with Tony and his family, but being nice about it felt like a betrayal to his pride and if there was something he had learned long ago, it was that logic only whispered and pride _always_ screamed.

 

Tony provided just a bit, “They’ve sedated him. When he’s strong enough, I want us to convene…Just to figure out what the hell we’re going to do with the god of dickheads.”

 

Steve didn’t even flinch at the choice of words. He simply nodded his head. Before he could respond verbally though there was a loud crash that filtered in from down the hallway. Both of their heads snapped towards the door and Steve moved back into the hallway and disappeared and Tony went to follow, only hesitating slightly to look back at Bruce and Strange. Bruce gestured, “Go on, we’ll stay and call if something changes.”

 

Tony still moved out slowly, casting a look at Peter who was sleeping soundly. He then followed the direction Cap had gone and he found the man leaning over the balcony looking down below. Tony moved beside him, and stared into the living area of the residential wing. The raccoon was there, expression angry and so was the living-tree thing…Groot if Tony remembered correctly. They were both standing over a shattered decoration that had possibly been a vase at one time and the raccoon looked at T’Challa who was sitting nearby beside his sister and Rocket apologized, “He’s a little shit when he’s tired. He’s sorry, High-Grace-King-Guy.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes slightly, he supposed the tree had broken the vase. The tree that Tony guessed had been what Rocket had talked about the night they had both drank their feelings into oblivion. When words weren’t enough, and pain was everything, everything had been eaten alive by it. Tony’s eyes scanned the room below. Rhodey was standing behind the bar with Sam, Thor, and Nat. Quill, Mantis, and Drax had approached both Rocket and Groot and were all bickering about something, that Tony could only suppose was the vase. There was T’Challa and his sister and then there was Wanda…Far in the corner, face bleak…expressionless really with nothing to show for agony. Tony believed in true agony, and sometimes the emptiness was what pain actually looked like.

 

She looked like pain. She looked like grief and Tony found himself being sorry. Sorry about her brother, sorry about Vision and he desired to approach her…To say something, but he knew that words would once again fail, like they always did. He couldn’t write it down, he couldn’t say it…He could only think of how to fix it and there was nothing he could build that would replace Vision for her. He supposed there would always be an empty portion of her that her brother and Vision left. There had been a time in Tony’s life where everyone had abandoned him…He supposed Wanda might feel the same.

 

But he didn’t know how to make it better for her and he was too terrified to make it worse.

 

Movement at the end of the hall caught his attention and Tony moved from the banister and Steve did as well. Barnes was at the other end, opposite of the direction in which Tony had come and maybe it was just him being petty or the fact that his child was sedated in the medical wing, but Tony turned and walked towards where he had come, ignoring Steve’s quiet voicing of his name. The thing was, maybe he should have been hanging out and celebrating with everyone else, they had their friends back after all, but his child was sick and he was sort of envious of their happiness, all except Wanda, because at least Tony had gotten Peter back. He had Pepper and Peter to hold onto, Wanda had no one and there was something silently murderous about that.

 

Missing people should have been considered a contact sport.

 

It typically left one with broken insides. Things that weren’t meant to be slaughtered. Tony had missed Peter so much some days it had physically caused pain, but there had been hope of getting him back and he supposed Wanda didn’t have that. Maybe Quill and Nebula didn’t either and Tony wondered briefly where Nebula had gone, but she was probably lurking somewhere in the palace, a corner. They had bonded briefly over their grief, he supposed they didn’t share that anymore. Tony had his son, Quill and Wanda didn’t have their lovers, Nebula didn’t have her sister. Things didn’t come back when they were lost sometimes, it was a harsh reality.

 

Thor maybe had that hope…Maybe hoped his brother could be brought back, but Christ, Tony wanted Loki out of his son that second and he didn’t give a shit about Loki, but Thor…Well, he considered him a friend, but no friendship was worth Peter. 

 

It was selfish but true.

 

Tony continued his way down the hallway, but he didn’t go back to the medical wing. Instead he found himself in one of the palace entrances, the glass ceiling above his head allowing the sight of the night sky and stars that were cradled with it. Tony tucked his hands in his pockets, and stared ahead, relieved he maybe never had to go back to that place. The marbled floors were silent, his mind only thought of Peter and Pepper and the hope of home once they could get his kid put back together. The world had seemed so bad, not that long ago, and sure it was still shitty, but Peter was _alive_.

 

“Thinking of another road trip?”

 

Tony looked back, whirled really, and Clint was there, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Tony sighed, shaking his head, “Never again, Barton. Space isn’t really my place, you know? Now Malibu? That was my place…This whole experience makes me tempted to rebuild there, New York attracts the crazies, obviously.”

 

He paused, then gestured to the duffle bag, “Headed back to the farm?”

 

“Yeah,” Clint breathed and Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had heard him sound so sincere, “My kids…Just got off the phone with Laura she says…She says they reappeared right where they went away and I’ve just…You know I hate to up and run but – “

 

“I know,” Tony interjected, “Trust me, I know.”

 

Clint took a few steps forward, clapping a hand on Tony’s shoulder. The archer laughed, but it sounded tired…depleted as he breathed, “We really fucking did that.”

 

“We really did,” Tony confirmed, “Funny what a couple of assholes will do for their kids. Like taking out a murderous giant with a god complex.”

 

Tony had once never believed in genuine friendship, beyond what he had with Rhodey. And Clint had, after all, chosen to side with Steve in the fight. But there was something to bond over when one was a father. There had been so many instances where he felt like no one understood his grief, but Clint did. As did other fathers in the universe. Clint had missed his children, had worried, had hurt. Tony was sometimes sorry for being so blind to the suffering of others.

 

The world was weird and tired.

 

Clint left. There wasn’t much of a good bye or anything of the sort. It was just a departing. Silent and Tony continued to stare up the sky, knowing good and well his son was down the hallway and there was a long road of issues ahead of them, but he was alive, wasn’t he? Peter wasn’t turned to ash, he wasn’t a body like Vision, or dead somewhere in the universe like the woman named Gamora. He was there, his heart was beating and Tony was going to save him, even if he had to deal with the wrath of Thor himself. Bad things happened, but Peter wasn’t going to be one of the bad things that happened. He wasn’t going to be any of that, he was Tony’s. And Tony was tired of things being taken from him.

 

Tony didn’t need words. Rescuing Peter, even from himself, was an action.


	10. Because of Winn-Dixie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki shrugged, “They must be scrambling for a way to fix this. You being unconscious and not harming your body further could buy them enough time to figure out how they wish to extract me and throw me into the burning pits of Hel.”
> 
> “Don’t say that.”
> 
> The god huffed, “Shall I prance around in false optimism then, little one? I know you prefer story books, but I don’t tend to take part in the pretend hope that fairytales bring. You are old enough to know better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh thank you all so much for the continued support! I swear you guys keep me sane and motivated ahhh!
> 
> WARNING PLEASE NOTE!!!!!!:
> 
> This chapter is a bit angsty and also involves a scene with the threat of self-harm, it's a pretty intense scene. If you feel this scene will potentially hurt you in anyway, DO NOT READ. Stay safe my loves! ❤❤❤

People don’t always talk about what happens after a war.

 

Tony’s family had made money from wars. Had gotten wealthy off of them. Growing up, Tony never once wondered what it might have been like after the bombs stopped going off. After the missiles stopped firing and after the bullets were burrowed into bodies. He hadn’t even really known much about PTSD until after New York, and shamefully, he hadn’t cared. It had been optional ignorance on his part. Aching and hurting were not things Tony Stark allowed into his life. Even after being shot…after the Hydra incident, he had let alcohol numb himself and he had clung to Peter’s existence and the routines of that.

 

But he had never actually been to war, and it was a far-off concept. Until Afghanistan. Until seeing it up close and personal and he realized war was no money, it was blood. It was destruction, and waterboarding. It was reactors in chests, and fragments in hearts. It was men and women not going home, it was the murder of civilians. There weren’t always good guys or bad guys, bad guys were all over. And Tony…Tony had been the villain. Maybe not in his own story, but in the stories of others, his weapons were evil.

 

They only saved a small portion, they vaporized a much larger population.

 

_“Men and boys always want to go fight. They are always looking for a reason to go to war. It is the saddest thing. They have this abiding notion that war is fun. And no history lesson will convince them differently.”_

If even children’s stories could see flaws in their ways, there was something so very wrong with the entire thing. And as much as Tony tried to run from war, like stopping the weapons manufacturing division at Stark Industries, war still followed him. It followed him to Sokovia, to Wakanda, to some planet called Titan and the nameless planet on which Thanos had met his end. Now the entire world knew of that war. They were all suffering the repercussions of reforming, going from ash to existence in a split second. Those who had never turned to ash suffered as well, and Tony didn’t know how to fix any of it, but of course Sam Wilson would be the first to put together a support group for everyone.

 

Tony had been invited of course, but he had avoided it. Found other places in the Wakandan Palace to be, when he wasn’t sitting at his son’s bedside theorizing with Doctor Strange, Wong, and Thor. Mantis and Wanda had been helpful in other senses, reaching inside Peter, but the pain it caused them made their involvement less and less. The Guardians hadn’t taken much interest in the support group, and Tony figured they were only still there for the sole purpose of the Soul Stone. The gauntlet and Gamora. All the things Tony had placed on the backburner in his mind because he didn’t have enough energy to debate on the dangers of messing with the Soul Stone while Thanos was still inside. The risk of freeing Gamora and unintentionally freeing him at the same time was too imposing.

 

Part of Tony’s problem, he knew, was that he didn’t accept help that was offered to him. Sam had practically held out support, had been trained with dealing with what everyone was going through (maybe not exactly, no one was trained to deal with the psychological repercussions of half the universe disappearing) but it was still a no go. And everyone was stuck there, in that palace, until they could decide what to do with the stones. Because their job wasn’t done yet. They weren’t finished. The stones still posed a threat and there was the debate of destruction (which the loved ones of Gamora were vehemently against) or the idea to split the stones up once more. Hide them amongst the galaxy. But what would happen if another Thanos ever came to power? Ever decided to try what Thanos had failed at?

 

These things split and turned and ripped and Tony was still dealing with the fact that his son was dying. There was no way to soften that notion, Peter’s body was slowly but surely losing strength. It had only been a few days since their return to Earth, but the IV wasn’t doing much and the boy was sleeping, sure, but Tony could see the pain etched into his sleeping face every passing moment and even with Wong there to help, and the ancient texts, there was still the argument of what to do with Loki.

 

In Tony’s avoidance, his avoidance of the med-bay, the avoidance of Sam Wilson and the others, Rhodey had managed to find him, because Rhodey always did find him. He could barely see straight, too much coffee on an empty stomach, and it was making his heart race in his chest. Maybe he would have preferred Pepper’s company, but she was dealing with phone calls from Happy, phone calls from the company, because the real world still existed, and it had picked up life again with the return of so many people looking for their jobs to go back to.

 

He fought the urge to groan when the colonel entered, and Tony slouched over the counter top of the empty kitchen. He pressed his mug to his lips and took a deep gulp of the hot liquid, hoping it would give him the energy he needed because this conversation was bound to draw something out of him. Rhodey asked, not beating around the bush and Tony couldn’t decide if that fact was a good or bad thing. He decided bad quite suddenly, like a baseball bat to the face.

 

“Why weren’t you at the meeting?”

 

“You mean Wilson’s support group?” Tony raised an eyebrow, “Not really my kind of crowd, Rhodes, you know that. Besides, I didn’t exactly get dusted.”

 

Rhodey leaned against the counter, “Neither did I, but I still went. It was good, and I think it could benefit you to join us.”

 

Tony frowned, “That sounds kind of cultish.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Next thing you know, you guys are going to be chanting ‘One of Us, One of Us!’.”

 

Rhodey shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose and Tony sort of wanted to laugh and sort of didn’t because it felt serious. He actually did feel annoyed by the insinuation that he needed to be in attendance. He drank the bitter drink some more, and looked away, sighing as he waited for Rhodey to say something, but he didn’t and as many years as they had been friends, Tony didn’t know how the man hadn’t given up on him yet.

 

Tony spoke instead, “…I’m busy. You know, waiting for my son to wake up so we can all convene about what to do about his…condition. It’s going to be a group effort, but it feels wrong to talk about it without him.”

 

Rhodey looked surprised, “That’s actually wise of you…”

 

He looked at his friend with a confused expression and Rhodey explained, “Sometimes you tend to jump into the decision-making process without consulting Peter. And this is something that’s going to be very strenuous on him, so…I think it’s good that you’re waiting before you decide what to do.”

 

Tony blinked several times. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. This felt a bit like a stab at his ego, but deep down he knew it wasn’t Rhodey’s intention. Intentions always had a way of surfacing without explanations, but he knew Rhodey well enough. But Rhodey was giving him too much credit. If Peter were a different kid, if he were young, if he were all these things, Tony wouldn’t hesitate. But the kid had seemed emotionally…compromised on the ship, and Tony wouldn’t lie, he had been too, but he didn’t want to hurt Peter more than he already was.

 

And he knew if he made the decision without Peter conscious, there would be betrayal in those large eyes and Tony couldn’t handle that from his son, not right now. Not when he had only just gotten him back. The world was too hard, life was too difficult, his son was bleeding to death from the inside, and Loki was a fucking asshole. Tony tried to remind himself that Loki had been helpful, but it was hard when the guy’s presence was actually eating Peter alive from the inside out. Was living off of Peter’s body.

 

The word parasite was ringing true. Even Mantis, the girl/alien with the kind voice and gentle hands referred to Loki as such when speaking about him in the med-bay. It wasn’t just Tony’s bias, but he knew it upset Thor when his brother was called that and it was hard for Tony to remember that not everyone saw Loki in such an antagonistic light. Loki was someone’s brother, and had been someone’s kid at some point. Tony didn’t want to humanize him though, Loki was a problem, and it was easier to loathe problems.

 

Tony felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he reached inside pulling it out. A text flashed across the screen, from the name: **Witch Doc**

_Removed the sedative. Peter should be waking soon._

Tony put his phone in his pocket and looked at Rhodey with a grim expression, causing his friend to appear slightly worried. Tony ordered, “Go get the essentials. Pete is gonna wake up soon and we need to make a decision, fast.”

 

He then pushed himself up from his seat, moving to the door and towards the med-bay, another war opening its gates to him. At one point, he had missed his suits. He had forgotten what it meant not to fight. He had loathed how normalcy felt, but now that he was so much older, and had lived such a different life than anticipated, ever since space had opened up and tried to eat him whole, and had snatched his son as well…He never wished for it again. He never wished for war. He had once been like those men…those boys…but he wasn’t any longer.

 

Character growth, and all that bullshit.

 

It kind of sneaks up on a person and it had snuck up on Tony. It had shot out. He didn’t know how he had gone from an uncertain father who hid his alcoholic tendencies to a helicopter parents who was still fighting said alcoholic tendencies. He wondered when things stopped being a game. When everything had turned into life or death. Had it happened when Peter was only four and that Hydra agent had shot him, or had it happened after New York?

 

You can’t pinpoint ‘the thing’ it just happens. ‘The thing’ becomes you.

 

And Tony had Become.

 

He had once shouted at Cap that they weren’t soldiers, but maybe they were.

 

_“You can’t always judge people by the things they done. You got to judge them by what they are doing now.”_

What did a children’s novel on Peter’s bookshelf from the depths of Tony’s memories know about judging people? Tony couldn’t even remember who had fucking said it, did the dog say it? Tony had been a war hungry bastard and now…Now he was a coward who just wanted to keep his kid alive and was going to kill said kid’s new ‘friend’ to do it. Said friend was the brother of someone Tony considered to actually be a real friend, and everything had suddenly turned into a weaved mess of malice and incompatibility.

 

It seemed to be a lose-lose type of thing and Tony was so very tired of those.

 

Mostly because it was virtually impossible for him to be even remotely optimistic about the outcome.

 

…

 

“How long have I been in here, do you think?”

 

They were back in the dark room, with the dark walls, and the dark floor. Barely illuminated and Peter had begun to forget what the sun looked like. Loki was across from him, pacing, like he had been doing ever since Peter had fallen into this place of nothingness. He had requested a few times for Loki to stop, to sit down, and maybe calm a bit but Loki didn’t ever listen, and Peter was starting to think this one-sided patience was going to wane thin very soon. Peter was not good at missing the sun.

 

 But when Peter spoke, Loki paused and glanced down at him, a bit of interest in his furrowed brows. Like he hadn’t even thought to ask that or mulled on the question at all and it was disturbing because it was all Peter had been thinking about for the past forever minutes that had been ticking by. Loki simply glanced out into the emptiness before he hummed, “I do not know. Time passes so idly here.”

 

“I think they must have drugged me,” Peter whispered, “Which…is a shitty thing to do.”

 

Loki shrugged, “They must be scrambling for a way to fix this. You being unconscious and not harming your body further could buy them enough time to figure out how they wish to extract me and throw me into the burning pits of Hel.”

 

“Don’t say that.”

 

The god huffed, “Shall I prance around in false optimism then, little one? I know you prefer story books, but I don’t tend to take part in the pretend hope that fairytales bring. You are old enough to know better.”

 

Peter sighed, “Maybe you should tell my dad that.”

 

“Old enough not to believe in fairytales,” Loki corrected, “But there are some areas in your life that you tend to be a bit too confident when approaching. Without adults I’m sure your naivety would have gotten you killed by now.”

 

The boy glared before shaking his head, “Whose side are you on?”

 

“My side,” Loki answered, sounding truthful and maybe even bitter. Peter felt hurt rise a bit inside himself and Loki’s face changed, and Peter saw an apology coming to the surface as he shook his head and ran a hand through his dark hair, “And yours…Even if I find you are misguided.”

 

Peter felt the betrayal sink away and it was replaced by a small smile. He found himself missing Ned and even though Loki wasn’t exactly his best friend, he still helped Peter cope with the fact that this was the longest he had gone without seeing the guy since they were young. Loki was a good surrogate, but he had also taken up a place that Ned hadn’t. A place where a friend that one relied on for survival would be and maybe that was where the attachment had come from, like Stockholm syndrome. But Peter didn’t care.

 

Peter picked at his fingernails.

 

“I’m kinda scared.”

 

Loki’s head whipped in his direction, questioning silently and Peter went on, “I know I shouldn’t be…He’s my dad and everything and a part of me wants to trust he’ll make the right decisions but there’s another part that just…”

 

The god’s eyes softened, “Fathers are flawed too. I suppose that’s a difficult realization when we are raised to see them as ‘heroic’.”

 

“I know my dad isn’t perfect,” Peter laughed, though he guessed it wasn’t funny, “He gets angry and he obsesses and he’s self-destructive. But I love him, and he always looks out for me, even when he’s not doing so great for himself.”

 

He could feel Loki’s eyes on him. Learning and observing. Peter was having a hard time. Growing pains were vividly real. Loki opened his mouth, and Peter wondered if it was to provide comfort but he didn’t get to find out because there was a sound from the darkness. Voices growing closer and Loki looked behind himself before his voice echoed, “I think you’re waking.”

 

Then he was.

 

The darkness disappeared, replaced by unfaltering lights. Lights that burned into him, and Peter cringed, turning his head away but the light followed him and someone took the side of his face, forcing him to face the light once more. He heard a voice, familiar, repeating over and over, “Peter? Peter, open your eyes.”

 

He did as he was told, despite not wanting to and when the haze of sleep disappeared, he saw Bruce Banner’s face above him. Peter startled slightly, and tried to push himself up, but his muscles felt like jelly. Doctor Banner placed a hand on his shoulder and shushed him quietly, saying, “Calm down, it’s alright. Do you remember where you are?”

 

Vaguely. The entire arrival back to Earth was a distant memory now though, and Peter couldn’t quite get a hold of it. It had left him like it had never been there. His head turned, and he felt a soft pillow below him, propping him up just enough to see several other occupants in the room and Peter suddenly felt very self-conscious. To the far right was Uncle Rhodey, Thor, Cap, and Nat. At the foot of his bed was Doctor Strange, and the man Peter had only seen briefly in New York…Wong was maybe his name? Then above him on the right side of the bed was Doctor Banner and to his left…Was his father.

 

It felt, worryingly, like an intervention.

 

 “W-Wakanda,” Peter croaked, voice hoarse.

 

Doctor Banner nodded in satisfaction and Peter tried once more to push himself up into a sitting position. He felt his father’s hands, ever calloused grabbing him and assisting in the feat and Peter supposed it must have been serious because most of the time when Peter was barely hanging on, his father insisted he stay lying down. But there were so many people in the room. Then again, not everyone was there…and Peter could only theorize that whatever they were consulting about didn’t involve the Guardians and then he realized it must really have been an intervention of sorts. Something about Peter.

 

Peter’s eyes scanned to his left. He saw a tray across the room, with several tools, syringes and a scalpel. What were they going to do, literally cut Loki out? Like a physical being? Peter’s eyes found Thor’s and Peter felt Loki jolt once more at the sight of him and it wasn’t a happy jolt either, it was a sort of anxiety induced one, also shrouded in a bit of pain. Peter flashed to that nightmare, the one that sharing Loki’s head entailed. To death and explosions in space and pale faces drowning in death.

 

 _“This will not be good,”_ Loki’s voice insisted _, “I can assure you of that.”_

Peter agreed, but he said and thought nothing in return. Peter’s eyes found his father’s, wide and begging for some kind of answers as he questioned softly, “What’s happening?”

 

“We needed to talk,” Peter’s father said, “Only…the essentials. As to why Romanoff and Rogers are here, I have no idea. Rhodes is moral support.”

 

Peter noticed Nat roll her eyes. Peter picked at his fingernails and maybe it was becoming a bad habit, because the edges would surely start to bleed by the time he was finished with this new bout of worry. He swallowed thickly, past the lump that had formed in his throat and he questioned further, “Talk about what?”

 

“About our parasitic friend,” His dad provided.

 

_“I swear – “_

Peter ignored the rest. Everyone’s eyes were digging deeply, and he was a bug. Thor stepped forward a bit and tsked, “Now, now Stark. Let’s not insult my brother further, I’m sure the last thing he desired was to be trapped in a human child.”

 

“In any case, view this as a consultation,” Doctor Strange provided, “This is going to be a group effort, and since it concerns you, it felt only fair that you be conscious for the decision-making process about how we are to go about removing Loki from your body.”

 

Nat stepped forward, arms over her chest, “Well, I’m no professional, as Tony so kindly pointed out, but I say we take him out and stick him back in the Soul Stone. We don’t exactly have a viable body to put him in and he’s clearly not meant to share with others.”

 

“You make it sound like it’s easy,” Thor laughed, but there was little humor behind it, his voice low and somewhat daring, “The stones are extremely delicate, and who’s to say we don’t mistakenly shred the boy’s soul and put pieces of him elsewhere. He could end up catatonic at best and I’d prefer my brother not return a prisoner to the place where Thanos is being kept.”

 

Peter’s heart raced as he looked back and forth between them, head whipping towards the man…Wong, as he hummed quietly, almost as if thinking aloud to himself, “The text had very few mentions of splitting souls. But all were adamant that without a body, the soul would perish…But if two souls remain in such close proximity for too long you run the risk of a merging, which is nearly impossible to disconnect, and no mortal is built to withstand such an invasion.”

 

His father tensed, stepping forward as he snapped, “So you’re saying Loki isn’t just killing Peter’s body, he’s overrunning his _being_?”

 

“Not…overrunning per se,” Wong sighed, “Absorbing…Molding, whatever word you want to use, the results are the same. If their souls join, neither will survive, especially not the boy’s body.”

 

Peter heard his father click his tongue and his stomach sank when he said in finality, “Right…So we take him out. Right now, Wong, get him out of my kid.”

 

There was this sense of not existing and Peter wondered why they had even bothered waking him up for this process. Because he hadn’t even gotten a word in and no one was paying him any mind anymore. Most eyes were on either Thor or Peter’s dad and Peter bit down on his lip when Thor stepped forward and his mind flashed to Ultron, to the god grabbing his dad around the throat and squeezing and Loki had died in such a way. Cap moved as well, putting a hand on blond’s bicep.

 

“You know what will happen if you remove him when we have no body to place him in,” Thor said, eyes narrowed, but his voice frighteningly patient, like talking to a misbehaving toddler, and at the moment that was all Peter could see his father being, but also a terrified man with a sick son that was just desperate, but Peter couldn’t…He couldn’t let this happen.

 

“And you know what will happen if we leave him in there too long!” Peter’s father’s voice raised, prompting Doctor Strange to raise a hand.

 

The doctor interjected, “Stop being ridiculous, both of you. No one is making a life-or-death decision in a split second.”

 

“You think I’m being ridiculous?” His dad growled, “I’m starting to think I’m the only one thinking clearly in this situation! Loki attacked New York, he’s done some pretty shitty things and yet you’re willing to risk Peter in order to try and save him. I don’t _get_ that.”

 

Uncle Rhodey spoke for the first time, and Peter felt some relief in his chest at hearing his collected voice, a voice that always provided a clear comfort, something to grasp at in the chaos their lives so often brought to the table, “Tones, no one is choosing Loki over Peter, we’re just trying to go through all of the options before we make a knee-jerk decision.”

 

Peter saw his dad’s shoulders tense. They tensed in the way that they did when the man felt cornered. He shook his head, jaw setting, “Executive decision being made. Wong, again, game plan, how do we do this?”

 

“Dad!” Peter exclaimed, and the man’s head whipped around to face where Peter was sitting on the bed. He felt around for Loki, but the god had gone oddly silent during the arguing and Peter just wanted him to come and help, and to talk to him because he didn’t know what to do or say and they were actually considering letting Loki die. Peter shook his head back and forth, “This is _my_ consultation…W-We’re not _killing_ Mister Loki.”

 

His father turned slightly, placing both hands on the mattress, and Peter suddenly felt boxed in. Loki reached for his arms, wanting to push, but Peter wasn’t going to push his father away. The anger in his dad’s eyes turned gentle, like Peter was a small child who didn’t completely understand. His dad breathed, “Pete… _He’s_ killing _you_.”

 

“Not on purpose,” Peter argued quietly, “He has just as much of a right to live as I do. Why wake me up to talk if you aren’t going to let me make my own decisions?”

 

Pain etched into his dad’s features. He knew what it was…He knew his dad was so scared, but Peter was scared too. He was scared of dying, but it would be selfish of him to just throw Loki out of his body without anywhere for him to go. With the risk of him dying inside the Soul Stone or outside of it. 

 

Suddenly Nat’s voice interrupted, causing Peter’s father to look away, “I agree with Tony. From a clinical standpoint only, I think if a decision needs to be made, then Loki draws the short end of the stick here.”

 

Silence overwhelmed, and Peter felt sweat form on his palms and he had the sudden urge to vomit. There were eyes, glances, silent understandings, but Thor definitely did not agree, Peter could see it and he was saying something, but Peter’s ears had begun to ring because this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_. It was like a vicious attack, and it felt like they weren’t even trying to come up with other options. He stared at his dad, attempting to form words, trying to hear anything, and Loki was angry, Peter could feel that much and it was like plummeting, down, down, down.

 

Everyone was speaking at once. People were talking over each other, it was chaos and Peter put both hands on his ears, and maybe he thought nothing was filtering in, but then again, maybe everything _was_ all at once and it was coming out as silence. Overwhelming, and Peter shut his eyes because they were burning. He was crying. He was tired and the sedatives were still wiggling around inside of him. His head wanted to explode.

 

This was supposed to be a room of understanding, friends helping friends, but maybe it was too much to ask.

 

_Other people's tragedies should not be the subject of idle conversation._

It was Peter’s tragedy, wasn’t it? It was his tragedy and it was Mister Loki’s? This was his consultation but maybe being sixteen still meant he was invisible at times, especially when his father panicked and while everyone shouted at each other, Peter wondered how they could be so ignorant to the fact that this was his decision to make. There were a lot of reasons Peter would be willing to die. But there were a lot of reasons as to why there was hope he could live through this. But no one was hearing. Maybe it wasn’t idle conversation, but it was conversation, it was conversation that Peter was being excluded from.

 

Peter believed in good things, after all, but he also believed in drastic things.

 

So, when he jumped to his feet, ripped out his IV, and lunged for the scalpel on the tray near his bed, he sort of thought about the repercussions of such an extreme option. And then he pressed the blade to his throat, his jugular, like he’d have the strength to cut himself deep enough, to do enough damage to matter. He was crying, not from sadness or some bizarre mental breakdown, but because he was angry, and no one was listening, and wasn’t it a tragedy all on its own that he needed to put a blade to his throat to make his father and the other adults look at him?

 

Threatening to stab himself in the neck was…messed up. Peter would relent to that. Whether or not he’d actually do it was completely up in the air, but he had stood in front of Thanos, why couldn’t he stand in front of himself, between Loki and the adults? Everyone grew quiet, so quiet one could hear a pin drop into the floor and blood was rushing through Peter’s ears, but at least no one was shouting anymore. Finally they were looking at him, even if it was with terror because his hand was trembling, shaking, pressing the blade close enough to feel it prick his skin. It didn’t hurt, and Peter...

 

_“Are you out of your mind!? You’ll kill us both!”_

Peter blinked the tears away. He didn’t know…was he serious?

 

His brown eyes found his father’s, and the man’s lips were parted, expression like he had just been slapped across the face, but he had at least shut up enough to notice him. Peter was past mad, he was pissed off. He would never understand why children had to be invisible. Would anything change in the next two years?

 

“Peter,” His father started, stepping forward just slightly, but when Peter stepped back, the blade unfaltering, his didn’t advance any further and instead he continued, “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Peter grit his teeth, speaking vehemently, his voice surprisingly steady despite the dampness on his cheeks, “Are you guys ready to listen now?”

 

No one responded.

 

Peter continued, “Mister Loki is my friend. He helped save me and he helped save half the universe. Which means, we’re going to do everything we have to, to save him. So-So we either all work together to find a way to get him out safely…or he doesn’t get removed at all.”

 

It was an empty threat. Peter knew he couldn’t do it.

 

But his hands shook, in a sort of honesty. Uncle Rhodey moved beside his father and he insisted, “Put it down.”

 

“Not until all of you agree,” Peter croaked, his voice losing its strength giving into an unfamiliar hysteria and Loki was definitely freaking out too, inside of him, and he was overwhelmed with a foreign anxiety that wasn’t just his own, it was Loki’s as well, and did Loki cry? It felt like he was bubbling over and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and the blade was stinging his skin in the slightest, just a little, like a bee.

 

“Put it down,” Uncle Rhodey repeated.

 

“No!” Peter insisted, “Not until you all promise me!”

 

Then his father’s voice snapped through the air, “Goddammit Peter drop it!”

 

“Promise me!”

 

He didn’t get his promise. Red suddenly flashed across his vision and the scalpel was yanked from his grip and it clattered to the floor at his feet. Peter jumped in surprise at the sudden loss of control, and he looked over at the doorway to the med-bay, seeing Wanda there, having made her entrance without him noticing. The red hue around her fingers disappeared, the weapon removed from Peter’s grasp and by the time Peter looked back to his front, his father was shooting forward, kicking the scalpel away.

 

It slid across the floor, and into the wall and Peter felt firm hands grip his upper arms tightly and his shoulders were shaken, causing the world to whirl. He looked up, at his dad, and there was so much terror and suddenly guilt hit Peter like a ton of bricks. Uncle Rhodey grabbed at his dad, trying to make him lighten his grip, telling him to calm down, but Peter had never seen his father so angry with him before. His hands had never held him so roughly.

 

“Are you out of your _mind_?” The same question Loki had asked left his father’s lips, but this was quiet, this was spoken like ice slipping from a glacier and Peter swallowed thickly, all that bravery from before slipping away like it had never been there in the first place as he stepped back, “What was that?”

 

“I wasn’t gonna do it,” Peter resolved, desperate to be believed, “No-o one was listening to me.”

 

His father went on, and the way his voice cracked, as if he was going to cry, made Peter flinch, “So you do _that_? For some asshole that has proven he has no problem manipulating and being evil?”

 

“He’s not evil,” Peter said, “I promise, he’s not.”

 

There was quiet. People were moving in the background, but Peter just felt sick and his dad’s eyes were clouded with unshed tears and Peter hadn’t meant to make him cry. He was just so desperate to be heard…They were going to kill Loki, he had to save him. Peter swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly and he couldn’t see, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

A pause, then again, “I wasn’t gonna do it.”

 

His father’s arms wrapped tightly around him, without much warning and Peter felt warm in the embrace. Just standing from the bed had taken so much out of him and he put most of his weight on his dad, trying to keep standing. Just as soon as his dad had hugged him though, he was pulling away and then Doctor Banner was there. Peter didn’t get the chance to say anything when suddenly a needle pricked his arm and the plunger went down and Peter let out a shout of surprise.

 

“Bruce what – “ Peter’s father started to ask but Peter’s ears turned to water and the world felt like a cloud very suddenly.

 

Okay. Okay, yeah he deserved that, probably. He had made everyone shit themselves.

 

_“You are one of the most absurd children I have ever met…You just made our lives so much harder, Peter.”_

“Shut up,” Peter thought, “I just saved you.”

 

…

 

“It’s just a sedative, something to calm him down.”

 

Bruce’s explanation wasn’t really asked for. Tony knew what it was the moment he had watched Peter’s eyes roll into the back of his head and it wasn’t going to last very long anyway. Without continuous dosages, Peter’s body tended to run through medication rather quickly. Peter laid on his side in the hospital bed, eyes closed and face lax. Everyone had moved around the room, the panic from just moments before getting under their skin. There was something incredibly unnerving watching a sixteen-year-old press a scalpel to their own throat in an appeal to be listened to.

 

And also, Tony hated himself…Again. But what was new? Epiphanies were a thing of the past.

 

He pressed his palm to Peter’s forehead and shut his eyes before finally opening them again and looking at everyone. They were watching his every movement and anxiety was building up because he didn’t want to do this anymore. He was tired and his fight or flight was kicking up. Tony swallowed thickly, shoulders sagging as he relented to the room of ears.

 

“Alright…I guess it’s pretty fucking obvious now we’re not going to get this done without a viable body for Loki. So, what’s the plan?”

 

Tony didn’t know if he believed Peter wasn’t going to do it or not. He didn’t really care, the kid had threatened to do it and that was enough to scare him shitless. He had failed dramatically at his plan to involve the kid, but when the heat of the moment had arrived, he had lost it and forgotten and sometimes it was difficult to remember Peter was sixteen. So he pulled the blanket higher up on Peter’s shoulder and wait patiently for someone…anyone to say something.

 

This community had turned to shit.

 

“What about the cradle?” Steve suggested, the first to dare say anything, “It made a body for Vision, why not Loki?”

 

Bruce shook his head, “That’d be risky. I mean look at what happened last time when we tried it. Things don’t always work out the way we want and I don’t know if I’m willing to risk a whole other entity popping out of that thing and it being something we can’t exactly control or stop.”

 

“And you think we can control Loki?” Thor questioned.

 

“No, but I think he’s better than some mixture of Loki and something else,” Bruce replied.

 

Tony glanced at the door briefly. Wanda was gone, it was as if she had come for the rescuing and then left before the continuation of the conversation but a part of Tony was really interested in what she had to say since she and the Mantis girl were the only ones who could really feel Loki, other than Peter who was sharing a body with him. His fingers mindlessly combed Peter’s hair. Rhodey and Tony made eye contact and Rhodey’s eyes looked so sorry.

 

“Then…” Nat began, “What about his actual body?”

 

No one replied, and Tony wasn’t exactly sure what she meant before she gestured to Thor, “Well, the raccoon said they found Thor floating in space after the ship exploded, right? And bodies don’t exactly decay out there. We got Squidward back in one piece, and he’s still on the other side of the palace, ‘happy’ in his cell. Sure, Loki is dead, but we have a witch doctor that could probably put Humpty Dumpty together enough to be the home for Loki’s soul.”

 

“You want to pluck another body from space,” Rhodey commented.

 

Nat shrugged and she looked at Doctor Strange, “That is, if you think you can fix it.”

 

“I can fix the body, I’m sure,” Doctor Strange said, “Making it viable for life is a different assignment entirely. I can repair what Thanos has broken, but there is always the risk of things going wrong. He could wake and be vegetative.”

 

Tony shook his head, “I don’t care. Do it. Pete wants a plan where Loki has a chance and you…”

 

He looked at Thor, “…want your brother back. This is the shot, and we’re taking in. Deal or no deal?”

 

Thor nodded stiffly, “Deal. I will be the one to retrieve my brother’s body, though I’ll need to consult with the Guardian about the use of their ship. They’ll have the location in their logs, I’m sure and we can get an accurate estimate on where we’re going and how long it will take.”

 

“The boy won’t have long,” Wong provided, “You’ll need to leave at the first opportunity.”

 

The god didn’t respond verbally, but began his march towards the exit. He only paused briefly, eyes scanning over Peter, as if solemn and then they found Tony’s gaze. It hardened and Thor whispered, quietly, “Do not harm my brother, Stark. I am asking that of you…As a friend.”

 

As a friend. But Peter was his _son_. Tony cleared his throat, and maybe he lied, but he wasn’t sure, “’Course, big guy.”

 

Then Thor was gone.

 

And one by one people left the room, without much of a word to Tony. Until it was just him and Peter and Tony leaned forward whispering…

 

“If you can hear me, god of dickheads…you’re very lucky my kid is a saint.”

 

…

 

Peter dreamed of nothing.

 

He didn’t even dream of Loki or have a conversation with him and Peter felt that was saying something about the sedative Doctor Banner had given him. Or it was saying something about Peter’s metabolism, but the next thing he knew, his eyes were cracking open very slightly and he was trying to zone in on the world around him. The familiar blues and greens of the med-bay started to come into focus, and the smell of what always seemed to be bleach hung in the air.

 

_“Thank Odin…I’ve been bored out of my mind.”_

Peter wanted to groan. The last thing he wanted was Loki to start calling him stupid the moment he woke up and he knew they were bound to get to the point in the conversation. Silence was in the med-bay, though Peter could feel wires hooked to his right arm, so he didn’t tug too hard. He had already ripped one IV from his flesh, he didn’t really want to go for round two. Loki was squirming in his body and mind and things felt kind of loud, even though it was so quiet. White noise.

 

_“I’ll have you know, your father called me the god of dickheads and if I ever get my own body again I will have to kill him.”_

“Don’t talk about killing people,” Peter thought darkly, “We just had a knock-down-drag-out over people talking about killing you. We’re trying to be the better party.”

 

_“I told you, your father’s maternal behavior – “_

“I remember. Which was why I literally had to put a scalpel to my throat.”

 

There was silence, then Loki’s voice countered _, “I may not be the best example, but that was the wrong way to go about that, boy. Your father will not easily forget it.”_

Peter knew what he had done had been wrong. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad about it, because did. He felt a mass of a black hole, full of embarrassment and condemnation. He hadn’t known what else to do though. It was like…being overwhelmed by everything all at once and he was screaming and screaming on the inside, but no one ever looked at him. No one bothered to look up. And then he had done something so very wrong. It was wrong and –

 

_“What’s done is done, though.”_

“Forever and ever,” Peter muttered aloud.

 

“Forever and ever, what?”

 

Peter’s head snapped up at the familiar voice and sitting in a chair across the room was Wanda, her legs crossed, and her hair pulled messily into a ponytail. Peter’s body stiffened and he sat up slightly on his elbow, but his head spun at the movement. She looked different from the last time he had saw her. More tired and the bags under her eyes were darker, but Peter supposed grief did that to a person. It made them seem older. Peter swallowed thickly, mouth opening to answer, but he wasn’t really sure how to approach it.

 

“The God of Mischief,” Wanda provided, “That’s what I’ll guess. Your turmoil is loud…and painful, and I’ve wanted to help you. The best I could do was give you a dreamless sleep and block out his presence long enough for you to rest.”

 

Peter blinked…So it wasn’t the sedative after all.

 

_“Little witch – “_

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at Loki’s annoyance at being silenced. Wanda continued softly, “I wish I could help you more.”

 

“That’s alright,” Peter insisted, relaxing into his pillow, but lying on his side so he could look at her. He felt his heart racing with anxiety, as he went on, “W-What I did was wrong…I kind of deserve the turmoil.”

 

“No one deserves such pain.”

 

Peter grimaced. He didn’t know if she was talking about Peter anymore or her grief. His grimace pulled into a frown and he felt a heaviness settle over the room like a rain cloud. Something that was harder than usual to describe. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t want it to be perceived as pity, he wanted it to be seen as genuine. But how could someone like him, who was internally bleeding and had just threatened to cut his neck in front of the Avengers, pity someone else? It felt important to say.

 

So, he said it, “I’m really sorry about Vision…”

 

To his surprise, she didn’t look angry. She looked…pained, but no rage. Her head lowered, and she shook it back and forth, “He couldn’t be saved…Everything that could have been done was done and the end result was the same.”

 

Peter wondered if the same applied for Gamora.

 

“Is everyone okay?” Peter questioned, and she seemed to understand he was referring to those that were dusted.

 

She nodded, “Almost everyone.”

 

He knew what she meant. Peter’s eyes averted to the green wall, “Today was a rough one.”

 

“Thor, Quill, the tree, and the raccoon all went to search for Loki’s body in space,” Wanda provided, unprompted, “They left behind Mantis, in case she could be of use concerning you and Loki and the blue girl is just…floating around the palace. She seems to hover around where the stones are being kept quite often. I think she makes the king nervous, but he hasn’t been able to give much of his time, trying to put his kingdom back together and all.”

 

Peter swallowed thickly, he was about to say something when the door to the med-bay opened suddenly, halting his sentence. Both of them looked over quickly, and in the doorway were two figures. Peter blinked several times, trying to focus on the shadows until his brain connected that it was Uncle Rhodey and Pepper there. Uncle Rhodey stepped aside, as if he had been the one leading the way and Pepper walked in first, looking surprised to see Peter awake.

 

“Oh,” Pepper breathed, “They…They told me you were asleep.”

 

Peter couldn’t lie down any longer. Quickly he started trying to push himself up and Wanda moved from her seat to come assist him, and Uncle Rhodey crossed the room to do so as well. Peter blinked at the two adults rapidly, questioning, “What’s wrong? Is Dad okay?”

 

“He’s fine,” Uncle Rhodey insisted, running a soothing hand over Peter’s shoulder, “Pepper just wanted see you and I was giving her the ‘grand’ tour on how to get here.”

 

Peter swallowed down his panic, pretending it had never been there. He barely noticed Wanda slink out of the room and he wanted to tell her it was okay to stay, but she was gone so quickly it was like she hadn’t been there at all in the first place. Pepper approached the bed as well, but instead of standing beside him like Uncle Rhodey, she sat on the corner of the mattress. Her lips were smiling, but her eyes were sad and there was something glinting in them, making more guilt rise to the surface as Peter looked down at his fingers folded in his lap, trying to focus on Uncle Rhodey’s hand that was squeezing his shoulder.

 

“They…They told you.”

 

“I overheard something about it, yes,” Pepper sighed. Peter felt shame burn in his cheeks, like a flush, but not embarrassment, just pure self-loathing. Because Pepper hadn’t been one of the people ignoring him in the argument. She shouldn’t have had to hear about it. Her soft hands cupped his face and Peter lifted his eyes to look at her as she questioned softly, “Are you alright?”

 

Peter gulped in oxygen, giving Uncle Rhodey glance. The man nodded and then Peter turned back to Pepper, her hands feeling warm on his cheeks. He blinked rapidly, and Loki stepped back in his mind, turning around as if not to see the tears, to give space, respectful of the moment that was occurring as Peter shook his head back and forth.

 

“No…No I-I’m…Not really.”

 

Suddenly, she was holding him so tightly. Like holding together his puzzle pieces.

 

_I held on to him and comforted him and whispered to him and rocked him, just the same way he tried to comfort Miss Franny when she had her fits._

Peter wondered if Loki was tired of all his thinking about children’s books.


	11. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki spoke, and again, Peter’s voice came out through his lips, “He is trying to manipulate your child, Stark. I suggest you intervene.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovely people!!!! Just want to thank you all again for reading and such wonderful freedback on this story AHHHH I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I want to wish you all a very happy new year!!!! ❤❤❤

_I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again._

Peter rolled, tossed and turned in the bed. His heart hammered with such force that he couldn’t hardly swallow. It wasn’t that he was anxious, in his miserable, too warm, trapped in blankets existence. He wasn’t nervous at all. But some hours ago, his body had started acting as if it was struggling to do much of anything. And his heart beat in the way it used to do if he drank an energy drink on an empty stomach. Like palpitating uncontrollably, working extra hard to keep him alive and it felt scary, but he was almost too tired to care.

 

It was getting late, he had noticed a lot of the palace staff had slowed, so he supposed it had drawn to night. Though he didn’t think it was the dead of night because he could still hear a few voices carrying up and down the hallways. Maybe if he didn’t feel so awful, he would be able to make out what they were saying. There were still pieces of him that cared and pieces that didn’t. It was an in and out of consciousness battle with himself.

 

He had yet to see his father again. After Pepper and Uncle Rhodey had left, Peter hadn’t seen anyone, except staff that would come check on him. It had only been a few hours, so he supposed he wasn’t abandoned, and the Avengers were probably still talking about what was being done. There was still so much to do, so many questions that Peter didn’t want to ask because it was too hard now.

 

It felt like staying in the sun too long.

 

Peter missed the sun a whole lot. He missed the sky, he missed getting sunburns, which in itself might have been strange, but he thought, at this point, it was maybe June? As miserable as summer could be, he wanted to be home. He wanted to be staying up too late playing video games with Ned. Be extra exhausted because he could stay out and patrol longer without school to worry about. He missed his bed in the penthouse. He missed listening to Pepper and his dad bicker about the wedding.

 

He was existent here. But not a participant. He wanted to be a part of everything, be a part of fixing himself and saving Mister Loki. It felt as if he were a visitor, or not Real at all, just a dream in the midst of many others. So much so, it had become quite confusing to keep up with what was real and what was his fears playing tricks on him. And maybe that was what led him to put the scalpel to his throat in the first place.

 

_If ever they remembered their life in this world it was as one remembers a dream._

“You awake?”

 

Peter’s head whipped towards the door. The lights were dimmed, the only brightness coming from a small lamp to Peter’s left. Loki, who had been rather still, maybe dozing as well, only jolted slightly but when Peter saw it was his father, the god’s back turned. As if Peter’s father’s presence was enough to irritate him in every wrong way. Peter would have sat up, but he didn’t want to use his energy on something as simple as that. Even though anxiety crawled in, because last time he had seen his father, he had pointed a scalpel at his own neck.

 

Sometimes Peter felt like his dad had gotten the short end of the stick with a lot of things. Sure, there was wealth. A company. But his parents had died, killed by the Winter Soldiers, and he ended up with an illegitimate kid and said kid was constantly getting himself into trouble and Peter felt guilt, bubbling up like acid, because he was a very difficult child indeed. No one was listening though…He had to do it.

 

Peter nodded his head, “Yeah.”

 

The man entered the room, almost like someone approaching an injured animal and Peter guessed that was what he was now. He felt kind of like one. At times. But he also felt frustratingly aware of how useless he was. Of how much of a problem he was being. But his father continued towards him, and Peter didn’t move, not even when his dad sat on the edge of the mattress, appearing hesitant.

 

A silence was exchanged. Even with Loki’s back turned in his mind, that interrupted the quiet to some degree but Peter didn’t mind. It made it feel less pressured. He averted his eyes every now and then and Peter thought his dad was waiting for him to say something, but when he didn’t, his dad provided softly, “Thor and the Guardians left about an hour ago. Well, except Little-Blue-Peep and Mantis. They stayed behind to watch the shit show.”

 

He laughed, awkwardly, as if it were a joke, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to be amused. He faked a slight smile, but he knew it probably looked more like a grimace. Shit show. That’s what it was, Peter knew. Life really was that sometimes. Painfully, and unapologetically. He only flinched slightly in surprise when his dad cleared his throat, “How you feelin’?”

 

“Okay,” Peter lied, even though his chest felt about ready to explode. The disbelieving look he got showed that the change in octave gave him away.

 

“Mhm,” His dad hummed, “Let’s try that again.”

 

Peter swallowed, “My…my heart is just…it’s racing.”

 

His father’s eyebrows furrowed and Peter jumped when a hand pressed on his chest. They didn’t have him hooked to as many monitors anymore, not since he jumped out of bed and ripped so many out. Sure the IV had been reintroduced, but not much else. Silence ticked on as his father continued to press down on his chest, seemingly feeling for the beating underneath that felt so forceful to Peter.

 

“It’s…yeah that’s pretty fast,” His dad muttered, maybe thinking aloud, “I’ll have to get Banner or Strange to come look at you.”

 

Peter whined, sounding petulant, “No, they’ll put the wires back.”

 

“Well, the wires shouldn’t have even been taken off, should they?” Peter flinched slightly at the tone. The statement itself was enough to cut, but the way it was said left a singe behind as well. He had walked into that one and if he were feeling a bit better, he might not have just strolled in like that. Peter curled into his shell a bit more and regret flashed in his father’s eyes, prompting the man to let out a deep breath before shaking his head, “Sorry – I…”

 

Peter whispered, “It’s okay…I’m the one who messed up.”

 

His father stared at him, long and drawn out. He ran his hand through his hair and swallowed thickly, “Pete…Something like that…An action like that, it doesn’t just _happen_. You don’t just ‘mess up’ and put a scalpel to your throat.”

 

“You do when no one is listening,” Peter replied, “W-When everyone is threatening to kill the person you’ve spent weeks with…Dad, Mister Loki and I…We were all each other had in the Soul Stone, and I know I’ve said it a million times, but I still stand by the fact that he’s my friend.”

 

“Enough of a friend to cut your own throat?”

 

Peter gritted his teeth, “I wasn’t gonna do it, I told you.”

 

“I’m not so sure,” His father breathed, “The look on your face…”

 

Peter bit down on his lower lip. His father sounded so…adamant. So sure. So positive that this was something of a big issue, and maybe it was and Peter’s heart struggling to beat was just distracting him. Peter pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and murmured, “I was scared.”

 

His father’s voice sounded like gravel, rough, tired, “That wasn’t just being scared that was…It was some kind of – “

 

“What, mental break?” Peter uncovered his eyes, staring up and shifting a bit against the pillow behind his head, “Is this gonna be like the time you thought I was on drugs and wanted to send me back to Doctor Weathering? I-It’s ridiculous, my body is literally shutting down and you’re worried about where I am in my head?”

 

He leaned forward, and Peter tensed a bit, suddenly feeling boxed in when his father placed a hand on the pillow beside Peter’s head. As if he were going to jump up and run from his dad, like he had the energy or something. Peter swallowed thickly, seeing the glint of frustration behind his dad’s eyes, the same look he got when Peter would absolutely grovel and beg to become an Avenger.

 

“ _Yes_ , I’m worried about where you are in your head,” He said blatantly, “Kind of makes it pointless to save your body if you’re falling apart from the inside.”

 

Peter set his lip, because it had begun to tremble, and he replied, for what felt like the umpteenth time, “I wasn’t gonna _do it_.”

 

_“He’s not going to believe you, child…I told you, he will not soon forget it.”_

Loki’s voice filtered through, just a split second, before his presence turned its back again. Peter’s eyes watered and he sniffled through his nose, looking away from his father’s gaze at the wall behind him, trying to sink further into the pillow behind his head. He wouldn’t look at him, the way he was bearing down, looming, but the tear slipped through nonetheless, and the hand that had been on Peter’s pillow, the one boxing him in, wiped it away with ease like when Peter was younger and would cry his frustrations out because sometimes it was all one could do without putting a blade to their throat.

 

“Look at me.”

 

Peter, pouting, didn’t look until he was told a second time, this time a bit more sternness behind it but along with it came the simultaneous softness that only his father was capable of pulling off.

 

“Look.”

 

Peter did so, finally, shoulders pulling up as he crossed his arms over his chest. His heart still raced, though he didn’t know now if it was for the same reasons as before or if it was the anxiety of the entire conversation catching up with him. But he frowned deeply, and his father said, “This…all of this is going to get squared away. But you have to understand I can’t just…You scared the shit out of me.”

 

“And you have to understand I’ve been in too many of those situations,” Peter retorted, “Too many where people were talking about me like I wasn’t even there, making decisions for me…Except this one could kill someone, Dad. I won’t let that happen.”

 

Peter paused, considering, before he finished, “I’m Spider-Man, aren’t I? Spider-Man protects people and Mister Loki is a _person_.”

 

His dad said, “You’re more than just a person to me. And I have to protect you. You don’t understand…this has been my entire existence since you were four-years-old, Peter. _Protect_ you. At first I thought I’d only have to protect you from myself…But there are too many outside forces. You are so brave, braver than I ever will be, but you can’t just ask me to forget I almost watched you self-destruct.”

 

Peter, without thinking too hard about it, mustered up the strength to sit forward and wrap his arms around his father’s shoulders. He squeezed tightly, and he wondered for a moment if his dad had ever gotten to hug his father like this. His grandad didn’t sound like the kind of dad to exchange such affections and Peter didn’t do it as much now that he was older, but he remembered being small, remembered thinking if he just squeezed tightly enough his father would be cured of all the trauma and alcohol that Peter didn’t understand at the time.

 

His body shook from the exertion of sitting forward, but he continued to hold on.

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter dissolved, because he figured at this point, it was all he could say. There was no comforting his father, Peter’s actions had done the damage and he couldn’t just take it back.

 

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

 

His father hugged him back. The shaking released and Peter felt his eyes drooping and even when his arms went lax, his dad didn’t let go of him. He drifted off that way, feeling as Loki continued to move away from them, discomfort at the exchange, because of the affection. Peter thought, in that land between being awake and asleep, “It’s okay to miss your dad, Mister Loki.”

 

_“Shhhh…go to sleep.”_

…

 

_Boy._

_Boy, wake up._

_You must wake and you must come to me._

When Peter was aware again, he was no longer wrapped in the safe embrace of his father’s arms. He was, however, still lying in the med-bay bed, blankets entrapping his legs and he felt too hot. Incredibly so, like fire under his skin, a fever, and he was sweating. His clothes stuck to him and Peter shot up straight in bed, the voice clawing into his skull, and it felt like someone had used a screw-driver to pry the top of his head open just to whisper sweetly inside.

 

_Come._

It wasn’t Loki’s voice, but Loki startled within him. Like he too had been ripped from sleep and Peter’s mind turned to mush. For the second time, he pulled his IV from his arm, but this time was much slower as compared to the last when he had ripped it from his skin. His bare feet hit the cold tile and Peter moved slowly to the door, his weak body struggling, but the driving force, the force in his muscles, the ones he wasn’t controlling, kept him moving. He thought, he shouldn’t be going…following the voice, he should stay in bed, but something else brought him.

 

_“Peter, stop. Stop it.”_ Loki’s voice ordered, but Peter ignored it.

 

It felt so quiet, like someone had put a thin wall between himself and Mister Loki and for the first time in a long time, he finally felt alone in his head, besides that of the voice beckoning him down the empty halls of the palace. They were dimly illuminated, and Peter stumbled, barefooted and pale as he went on and on and he didn’t know where he was going exactly, but he kept doing so, kept going forward, kept pushing through what felt like thick air.

 

Peter remembered the first time seeing the exorcist. He had been only twelve and Ned and him had snuck it into the house to watch it. He hadn’t been able to sleep for a month since that, and Peter, the part of him that was small and only vaguely aware, guessed this was what Regan felt like in that movie. Controlled. If she was in there, and Peter was in himself, but the voice was what was making him move, and move, and move.

 

Loki was speaking, but the new sound continued to overpower. He went through doors, doors he maybe wouldn’t remember going through later, and up stairs. But the heavenly loneliness returned to him in the form of an entrance. Peter walked into a room he did not recognize, but everything seemed blurred and it was as if his mind and eyes were not connected. Until suddenly the out of body experience resulted in him jolting back into his body, with extreme force, like knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

_“Peter! Listen to me!”_

Loki’s voice was shouting, as Peter stood in front of where his body had taken him without his permission. Possession. There was…a cell possibly, glass and inside, sitting on a cot was the alien from the flying donut. The one that had been sucked out…and Peter felt confusion overbear him as he studied the creature within. Squidward…Squidward was what they had deemed him, and his eyes found Peter’s and Peter looked around, heart beginning to race and body feeling unbearably weak. He hadn’t walked so far in so long and suddenly he had been able to cross the palace –

 

“Ah, you heard me,” Squidward hummed, “ _Good_ …Your mind is very receptive, then. They usually are in the ill…much more pliable.”

 

Peter couldn’t find words, mouth opening, but nothing escaping. Loki was still screaming from within, screaming and shouting and moving too much.

 

_“You need to turn around, and you need to go to your father. I’m not playing games, turn around and leave the room!”_

Peter didn’t move though. He simply stood there as Squidward pushed himself to his feet from the cot and crossed his cell, before stopping in front of the glass. Peter, hesitantly strode forward as well until suddenly the space was only blocked by the wall between them. He swallowed thickly, his mind buzzing, like he had been given a sedative or any kind of drug to make him feel docile. But his heart still raced, his body still shook, struggling to stay upright in the weakness of his muscles from days of vomiting blood.

 

Squidward spoke again, “Ah, I can see your father in your eyes. His intelligence is unprecedented, though he isn’t wise…Maybe you will be.”

 

The alien’s hand pressed against the glass and Peter wanted to flinch back by the action. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to, and couldn’t bring himself to leave the room, despite how much Loki was begging and asking him to do so. Peter swallowed thickly, the lump of fear in his throat growing by the second and he was terribly dizzy. Peter whispered, “What do you want?”

 

Instead of answering his question, Squidward commented, “I feel the stones. They’re close, ever since your arrival…They must have been brought back with you.”

 

“They’re going to destroy them,” Peter insisted, “Then no one will have to worry about them again and people like you can’t use them to hurt others.”

 

There was a tsk, “Oh but what will happen to sweet Gamora if they do so? You do still remember Gamora, don’t you? I’ve felt your thoughts, boy, your turmoil and your pain, it radiates through this palace. You mourn her being left behind, and if they destroy those stones, they destroy her, you know?”

 

Peter’s back straightened. The haze in his mind was growing heavier, and Loki’s voice was fading off in favor of Squidward’s calm one as he went on, “She’ll die. And you will have done nothing to save her, you will have let it happen. Because you are weak and a coward.”

 

The boy’s eyes began to burn, and the confusion was mixing in, like he had, had one too many drinks or something, but he wasn’t even sure what drunkenness felt like. Peter’s tongue felt too thick, his mouth not moving the way he wanted, he was trying to think, trying to insist, trying, and trying, and trying, but it was too hard. He couldn’t connect.

 

And the alien told Peter, “They’re going to destroy that stone with her inside. You watched her suffer, do you want her to die, boy? You have the power to save her.”

 

Peter’s brows furrowed.

 

“If you’d only stop being a coward. If you’d only rise up against those that are holding you back, like your father. Then you could save her, and you could save that being living inside of you. I could help you do that, you know? If you’d only bring the stones to me.”

 

That was when the drunkenness whirled stronger and Peter almost stumbled over, grabbing the side of his head and groaning, lowering it to look at the floor. His vision was still folding at the edges, fogging over, turning into something he didn’t recognize. His hands were shaking, and he could barely draw air into his lungs as he finally looked back into the alien’s eyes. They were…almost welcoming, inviting, open arms, and Peter felt warmth run through the confusion in his mind.

 

“Bring me the stones.”

 

And Peter wanted to.

 

But then, without warning, something was reaching for his limbs. The collar in the back of his mind was yanked back and he flew from his own eyes, and suddenly someone else was moving his muscles without his permission, just like when he had pushed Doctor Strange. The drunkenness was replaced by a sudden vivid pain and Peter wasn’t in control anymore…No, Loki was. The boy’s brown eyes flickered, green folding into the irises, a green that wasn’t his. His trusting gaze contorted into a deep frown and a scowl, and the alien’s smirk quickly turned into surprise.

 

Loki was controlling him.

 

Peter felt an unfamiliar feeling course through his body and suddenly they were phasing through the glass. Like magic, but Peter supposed it _was_ magic and maybe that was what he was feeling. He couldn’t do magic though…And it was scary to think Loki’s soul had still maintained that ability and had brought it into the Soul Stone with him. Peter was a spectator in his own body as Loki’s anger came through, and Peter’s hand wrapped around Squidward’s throat, against his will.

 

Apparently the cell had some sort of sensor, because the moment they phased through an alarm began to blare throughout, and a red light flashed. Peter’s hand continued to grip Squidward’s throat, but Peter didn’t want to kill anyone and yet the light was leaving the alien’s face, his skin paling, and Loki growled, but it came out as Peter’s young voice, eyes still shining green, “I should tear you apart. You dare enter his mind and manipulate him? Well, it is unfortunate for you that he has a ‘parasite’.”

 

“You…pretend…god,” Squidward croaked through the hand on his throat.

 

Peter smirked, it felt wrong on his mouth and his other hand reached up slowly. Peter saw Loki’s thought flashing through, an intention to gouge out the alien’s eyes, and Peter’s heart skipped a beat with terror. No, no, no he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to hurt anyone and Loki had taken over him. He was not him. He was not Peter. This was his body.

 

Peter desperately reached out for Loki, trying to shroud him in something to calm his anger. Loki barely gave him a second thought in his mind, a simple ‘hush’ and Peter was gently pushed further back. Like a slap on the wrist for intervening, but these were Peter’s hands. His own hands would be doing the gouging and Peter’s didn’t think he could stomach it. The siren blared and he wanted to scream, but nothing would exit his mouth because it was overrun by Loki’s terrible smirk.

 

_“Stop it! Stop!”_ Peter ordered _, “I don’t want to kill anyone!”_

But the intentions were still there, and if Peter could cry subconsciously, he would and he begged _, “Mister Loki please…please, please if you’re really my friend you won’t make me do this. Don’t make me do this.”_

That stalled the movements. The thought ceased, replaced suddenly by conviction. Peter felt the terror turn to relief and Peter’s hand went a little lax around the throat, but it did not release. Not until footsteps suddenly entered the room, clearly responding to the alarm, and Loki turned Peter’s head, eyes still an odd shade of green as he gripped Squidward by the neck. In the doorway, Peter saw his father, Nat, and Doctor Strange.

 

Peter wondered if the king would be angry for them making such a fuss in his palace. If he’d make them leave before their decisions on the stones.

 

Loki spoke, and again, Peter’s voice came out through his lips, “He is trying to manipulate your child, Stark. I suggest you intervene.”

 

Then Peter’s hand released and they were phasing back through the glass of the cell. Peter felt Loki step back, leaving room for Peter to come forward once more. His heart pounded in his ears as he felt for his arms and legs and wiggled his fingers. They felt new, but broken, and his muscles were like fire. Suddenly he could feel everything again, Squidward’s influence gone. Everything gone. Peter stumbled, his head exploding and he felt something rising up his throat until he was falling forward and vomiting bright red onto the white tile floor.

 

The last thing he heard was his father screaming his name.

 

…

 

Chaos had a name, well two, and it was Peter and Loki.

 

Tony had decided this was the worst mixture of all eternity. Even worse than mixing vodka with rum.

 

It was one thing to be yanked from his sleep in the kitchen, lying over his laptop while Doctor Strange and Wong poured over ancient text books by the sound of a siren yanking through their guest wing of the palace. It was another thing completely to run into the cell of Squidward A.K.A the persistent asshole he had almost forgotten they had rescued from space, and find him being strangled to death by his son – who by the way – was being controlled by the God of Mischief.

 

Startling. It was almost startling how he had gone from sleep to pure panic in just a matter of seconds. Any remnants of calmness he might have had before, disappeared into thin air and Tony was quite literally, in every sense of the word, suffering. But his son was suffering more, and when he had seen the child’s wide doe eyes glowing green, he had realized just what they were playing with here. Then his son had vomited bright fresh blood onto the tile floor and nothing was going to be okay for a while. Not until Thor got back from space with the body they needed.

 

Tony carried his son into the med-bay, Strange holding the teen’s legs for him as both worked to lay Peter on the bed. Nat rushed in with Bruce, having been sent to rouse him from his own sleep in order to help them. He placed his glasses on his face while Strange worked to start _another_ IV in the boy’s bruised arm. Bruce questioned, his voice still slightly thick with sleep, “What happened? I heard the alarm –”

 

“Loki took over for a moment it seems,” Doctor Strange explained, never looking away as he drove the needle into Peter’s arm, and taped it down. Tony’s eyes shifted to Peter’s unconscious face, and his heart felt cold in his chest. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He had only just spoken to the boy a few hours before and when Peter had fallen asleep in his embrace he had left him and Tony hated himself because he should have stayed…he should have been with him.

 

“He took over?” Bruce asked, just as yet another person entered, though this time it was Wong and Tony felt if someone else came in his head might explode. Everything was too crowded, too tight, he hated it, he wanted out, he wanted to get away, but Peter was here and he couldn’t leave him again, not after what just happened.

 

Bruce went on, “How’d he do that?”

 

“Does it fucking matter?” Tony questioned harshly, before he found Wong’s eyes, then Strange’s, “Is he okay? Can you get him stable again, at least until Thor gets back with Loki’s body?”

 

Tony felt Nat’s hand wrap around his upper arm and though she said nothing, he knew it was meant to be offered as a comfort. However, he didn’t think anything could comfort him and Nat wasn’t exactly a huge source of the stuff. But sometimes she offered it in the oddest of times. Tony watched as Strange lifted Peter’s shirt, beginning to stick wires to his chest and abdomen. When Strange took too long to reply, Tony snapped, “Strange!”

 

The wizard paused, finally answering, “We will try, Stark.”

 

Tony swallowed, shaking his head rapidly, “No, no, no I don’t want to hear that. If you can’t stabilize him, I want Loki out. I want him out right now, Wong – “ His eyes found the man who stood beside Strange, “ – do it, take Loki out, both of you do it right _now_!”

 

“Tony,” Bruce breathed, “That’s not what Peter wants.”

 

Tony felt like pulling his hair out. He didn’t see why they couldn’t get it. Why they didn’t see that Peter didn’t understand what he was doing, and who he was doing it for. He was dying. And Tony couldn’t imagine losing his kid a second time, maybe because he knew he wouldn’t survive losing Peter again. He’d never make it through. The kid was what he had, he had Pepper sure, but Peter was the whole point of pushing forward. He was the point of getting better, the reason for so many things being okay in Tony’s life and if he didn’t have that thing…

 

Nat tugged him away from Peter, and on any other day he would have fought to stay by his side, but he knew Bruce and Strange needed room to work. Wong gave them the needed space as well and Tony felt so tired all of a sudden. As if he could do nothing. He was nothing, useless to saving his son because there was some other person inside of him that his kid was hell-bent on protecting but said person had just taken over Peter’s body and Tony couldn’t hold his shit together.

 

Driving his fist into the wall was the least of his worries, especially the sickening crack his hand made against it. Nat grabbed his elbow and snapped, “I don’t think T’Challa would appreciate you putting holes in his house.”

 

The look Tony flashed her silenced her scolding, but she went on a bit softer, “Listen to me…Doing this, getting angry and frustrated, it’s not going to help Peter.”

 

“And what is going to help him?” Tony snapped, “The only way we have to save him, he refuses to let us do. I swear to God Nat if they can’t – I swear I’ll…”

 

His voice died. Because honestly, he didn’t know what he’d do. There was this large void and everything was confusing. He pulled his assaulted hand close to his chest, feeling it pound under his skin, watching Strange and Bruce move like ants, scurrying about, seeming like they knew exactly what they were doing and Tony sometimes wondered if he should have gone to school to be a medical doctor. It might have helped, in the future, considering how many fucked up situations he and Peter seemed to get themselves into.

 

At this point they needed their own medical team to follow them around.

 

Tony shook his head slowly and muttered, “What the hell was that?”

 

“I don’t know,” Nat replied, “Was that Loki talking?”

 

Tony only hesitated slightly in his nod, because he was almost sure. As confused as he was, he knew those hadn’t been his son’s eyes. They had been the eyes of something else. Something Tony couldn’t quite wrap his head around and he didn’t like it. There was a burning within him as Nat went on, “So…he said Maw was trying to manipulate Peter. What does that mean?”

 

“If I had to guess?” Tony hissed, “Maw wants something from Peter. Name one thing we have that Maw would want.”

 

Nat didn’t get to reply, because Wong approached and answered for her, “The stones.”

 

Tony looked over, checking briefly on his son and the two doctors. They were still working, still moving and it was only just a matter of time before others would come questioning what had happened. Questioning where the alarm had come from. But he didn’t want that entire Scooby-Gang showing up for that conversation, it was going to be hard enough with just them. Tony stepped backward, into the hallway, but stayed just close enough so that if something happened he could hear. Wong and Nat followed him and Tony lowered his voice as if speaking of a secret, shrouded in the shadows of the dim hallway.

 

“We have to do something soon,” Tony ground out, “This is getting way too close for comfort, we need to get rid of those stones, it’s dangerous for us to be waiting this long to take a vote.”

 

Wong’s brow furrowed, “You mean destroy them? We’ve sworn to protect The Time stone with our lives, we cannot just destroy it.”

 

“Well there’s not much point in just leaving the one, you know?” Nat stated bluntly, “Look what happened to Vision. We haven’t truly won until the Soul Stone is done away with completely and if we let the Time Stone survive, there’s always the risk of someone reversing what we’ve done.”

 

Wong began to shake his head and Tony gritted his teeth, “That little sentiment is exactly how we got here, Wong. If we destroy the stones we can be done with Thanos forever, and we can put all of this behind us. I can focus on saving my fucking kid, instead of worrying about some ghost coming in and stabbing us in the backs.”

 

“You’re not destroying any of the stones.”

 

All three whirled around, and standing a bit further down the hall, almost completely swallowed by darkness were two figures. It only took a few blinks for Tony to figure out it was both Nebula and Mantis standing there. Nebula had a fierce look on her face, while Mantis seemed more or less disturbed by the entire thing. Tony wanted to slam his uninjured fist into the wall. Of course, two people who really didn’t need to hear the conversation would show up.

 

“What are you doing?” Tony snapped, “Sitting in the dark just waiting for the most dramatic time to cut in, Little-Blue-Peep?”

 

Nebula moved towards the group with purpose, Mantis scurrying to stay close behind. She growled, “Don’t hide behind your words, Stark. You won’t be destroying those stones, not while my sister is still inside”

 

“Look, I get it,” Tony growled, “I get it, alright? You want her back…you’re desperate, but this is the entire universe we’re talking about here. And Maw is supposedly _what_ , Loki said, _manipulating_ my kid? And I can only guess that he wants him to give him the stones or set Thanos free or some shit and clearly he has a foothold or else Peter wouldn’t have been in there in the first place. The stones are dangerous, more dangerous than useful.”

 

Nebula looked confused, “Maw tried to manipulate your son?”

 

“Yes,” Tony answered.

 

She paused, seeming to consider it carefully. She blinked, looking at the door to the med-bay before she averted her attention and Tony wasn’t sure what she was thinking about but it didn’t seem quite right. She questioned, “You’re sure you know what you’re talking about?”

 

“Wha - ?” Tony sputtered, “What do you mean am I sure? What else could he want?”

 

“For Maw to be able to enter your son’s mind, he must be worse off than you realize,” Nebula replied, as if Tony were an idiot and should know, “Your son is probably as good as gone at this point.”

 

Tony’s mouth opened, offense taking residence inside of him, but he was interrupted by the sudden sound of a machine shrieking, from within the med-bay. There was a pause, a beat, before all five individuals moved towards the room, Tony shoving in first without remorse, and he scurried inside like a wild animal, eyes wide and bulging out of his skull because he didn’t think he could take much more that night. His heart would surely explode, and then his vision blurred at the sight on the bed, both Strange and Banner struggling to gain control.

 

Peter was seizing.

 

Peter was _seizing_.

 

His body flopped, viciously, like a fish out of water and Tony’s brain wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel, the pain in his hand disappeared and everyone was moving, the machine was screaming and Tony felt so close to collapsing. He was so tired. So worn down. Falling apart, and Peter’s eyes were rolled in the back of his head. Spit dripped from his mouth onto the mattress and Tony might have been shouting or screaming, but he couldn’t be sure. He felt like he was outside of himself. Maybe a part of him preferred it that way but a large part did not.

 

Maybe this was his punishment, for all of those years blindly allowing his weapons to murder people. Turning away. He would have to watch his son waste away and needle after needle was injected, but his son did not stop. He continued to flop, and twist and spit and Tony most certainly was shouting, but he didn’t know what he had said. He didn’t know what to say. What could a father say while his son ripped to pieces right before his very eyes? Fathers were meant to protect, but how could he if his son was being murdered from the inside.

 

And wished for no one to remove the problem

 

Self-loathing hung heavily, but suddenly Mantis moved forward and she was pressing her palm to Peter’s forehead. Almost instantly, the boy ceased, he relaxed into the mattress and both Banner and Strange jumped back, seemingly surprised by the sudden stop. Tony’s heart fluttered with hope…but only just a moment as Mantis cringed and muttered something.

 

“He doesn’t have much time,” Her soft voice said.

 

Children suffered every day. Even the children of supposed kings did as well. Especially when they were willing to die for someone else. Willing to lie down and just fall apart because they had befriended someone that Tony considered evil, even if he had seemingly protected his son from Maw. Everything was shitty. Tony felt shitty.

 

The world, the world, it screamed, and it focused, and it burned.

 

Tony looked at Nebula and he could feel that barrier growing.

 

…

 

“I want to go home, Mister Loki.”

 

Peter sat in their darkness. It was theirs now. He had his knees pulled close to his chest. Tears pricked his eyes, and emptiness fulfilled itself. There was a slight ache in his limbs that he knew was stemming from the outside world, but if he could pretend, he would tell himself that the outside world didn’t exist. That this wasn’t real, but sometimes in those thoughts he floated away. And Loki was looking at him like something broken and Peter could feel a spot of upset at having the god reach for his limbs once more.

 

When Loki said nothing, Peter went on, “You took over.”

 

“Because he was in your head,” Finally Loki responded, tone sharp and unyielding, reminding Peter so much of his father, and it sort of hurt because he missed him, “Maw is…Well, I only knew him a short time, in the early days of Thanos, but he is a creature of many talents. And you, being in the state you’re in…weak and moldable, he took advantage of that and I fear he will continue to do so. Next time I might not be able to intervene, especially if they plan to remove me soon.”

 

He paused, then finished, “I may not survive it.”

 

 

Peter’s eyes widened and he released his knees, sitting forward, looking incredibly startled by the god’s statement. His fingers tightened and he whispered, “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean what I’ve said,” Loki insisted, “I have been here too long…the removal will be strenuous and the chances of me surviving it become slimmer with each passing moment, and that will leave you completely vulnerable to Maw’s influence.”

 

The boy shook his head vehemently, “Then you’ll stay here! I…I don’t want it to hurt you, Mister Loki, you can just stay – “

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Loki snapped, eyes flaring with anger, “You’re being a silly child. My presence has already sucked the life out of you enough, me stepping into control just nearly killed you, if you haven’t noticed the fact that you’re currently unconscious and here with me.”

 

Peter’s fingers weaved into his shirt and he curled slightly into himself. He felt angry, and ignored once more, and he looked up at Loki before whispering, “I don’t want you to die.”

 

“Don’t be such a little martyr,” Loki stated bluntly, “I have died worse deaths, and have been far more alone when they have come. This is simple…Either I will survive being removed or I will not. And with either case, you will get better and you will grow up, understood?”

 

Peter started shaking his head and Loki repeated, a bit more forcefully this time, “Understood?”

 

And slowly, he relented. He nodded, but he knew deep down he couldn’t just resign to letting Loki die, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Everyone was making that decision for him. He wasn’t trying to be a martyr, he was trying to be a friend and it felt so hard when so many people were pushing him away. Peter pressed his head into his hands and he heard Loki sigh before footsteps approached him.

 

When Peter looked up again, Loki was sitting directly in front of him.

 

“Considering the father you have, you may find this hard to believe,” Loki stated, voice surprisingly soft, “But you do not have to die for everyone. Certainly not for someone like me.”

 

_When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward._

 

…

 

It wasn’t long before everyone realized where the alarm had come from.

 

Being such a vast palace, the confusion had been evident, especially for the guards and they had shown up rather late for the show. But T’Challa had taken matters into his own hands and had put round the clock guards outside of Maw’s cell to prevent any further unauthorized entry. After reviewing the cameras, Tony had found that he had been right in his assumptions about what Squidward had wanted…That he had tried to use Peter to get to the stones and something unnerving befell him every time he saw Peter’s eyes glow green when Loki had taken over.

 

Things within the palace started moving rather quickly after that. Thor and the others were contacted, basically told to get their asses in gear but they were still searching the rubble of what was left of the destroyed ship, trying to find the correct body, because apparently there were many out there. But it had been some time since they had spoken to him, so a part of Tony hoped that in the meantime they had found the god’s corpse and were on their way back.

 

His fingers wound around Peter’s pale hand. He felt unnervingly cold to the touch, and the monitor sounded a bit fast, his heart struggling to keep him alive at this point and Tony worried that at any moment it would give out. That his kid was cease to breathe on his own and Strange had already mentioned the possibility of a respirator but that wasn’t what Tony wanted. He didn’t want anything other than his son to be okay.

 

It had taken some time to be alone again. All of the Avengers, Rogue, not Rogue, Mantis, and Nebula…They had filed in at one point and the discussions were blunt. Loki had to be removed. Peter had to be watched, until they could either destroy the stones or get rid of Maw and Nebula was still vehemently against the destruction of the Soul Stone and Wong and Strange wouldn’t concede to having the Time Soul destroyed either so there was that. But if Tony got the chance he'd destroy all of them, without a second thought, repercussions could be dealt with later. He was tired of being a team player.

 

The sound of the door opening caught Tony’s attention and he looked over, hand tightening subconsciously on Peter’s before he processed it was Steve in the doorway. Tony’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a deep sigh, feeling much too exhausted for a ‘Cap Speech’. Surprisingly Steve hadn’t talked much during the meeting with everyone else. And he hadn’t been one of the first to respond to the alarm. Tony knew Cap was probably struggling with everything as well, he was only human after all, but he was a soldier, and losing people was something he was familiar with. So was Tony, but his coping strategies had never been healthy.

 

“Meeting’s over, Cap,” Tony said, “Don’t you remember everyone being dismissed so I could wallow?”

 

Steve came closer, letting out a quiet sigh, “I just wanted to check on everything.”

 

“You just wanted to make sure I hadn’t done something stupid,” Tony chuckled, though bitterness ate away at humor, “You forget how well I know you. Sometimes I forget how well you know me…Because you’re not completely wrong to be concerned but don’t worry, I’m waiting for that last trigger before I start getting fire-happy.”

 

Steve looked at the floor, sounding sincere as he explained, “Okay…Yeah, you caught me, but if it’s any consolation, I’d destroy those stones too…But I also know what Nebula is talking about…About her sister being in there and wanting to get her out.”

 

Tony gritted his teeth, “She wants to risk setting Thanos free for _one_ person.”

 

“And what if that one person was Peter?” Steve questioned.

 

Tony was floored. Well, shit, got him there. Tony pouted slightly, looking away and returning his attention to Peter’s sleeping face. He wished for his eyes to be open, to see the same spark he saw behind them when Peter had been healthy and happy. Before Thanos. Before Loki. Before any of this turning to dust bullshit. Tony muttered, “Wow Cap, I love having a new complex to pile on top of all the others.”

 

“I’m just trying to see the other perspectives.”

 

“Any perspective that isn’t mine, right?” Tony hummed, “You just live to be a Contrary Mary when it comes to my opinions. Where was that when I was trying to explain the Accords to you? That kind of attitude would have been handy then, maybe the Avengers wouldn’t have been scattered all over the Earth and we could have done a better job at nipping this issue before it got so big.”

 

Steve stared, eyes round a maybe a bit hurt. Tony, inside, wanted Cap to be angry. He wanted someone to be angry at him, and to yell, so he could yell back. He wanted to punch more walls, even though his hand was still aching from hitting one earlier. Tony just wanted to do something other than squeeze his son’s hand and hope for him to wake up in one piece. To stop dwelling on what he could have done better or to stop thinking about how badly he wanted to murder Maw.

 

“You’re right,” Cap conceded, “I should have listened…But I’m not sorry for wanting to save my friend.”

 

_“Mister Loki is my friend.”_

And suddenly, those words made sense, as to why they had been stinging Tony. Peter had been insisting this entire time that Loki was his friend and that was why they couldn’t just take him out and let him die. The same way Cap had insisted Barnes was his friend. Tony’s chest felt like fire, like betrayal, because Peter was willing to die to save Loki. And Tony felt abandoned by that concept, that Peter would choose death.

 

_“He’s my friend.”_

_“So was I.”_

Tony looked at Cap, blinking hard.

 

He really, really didn’t like that comparison.


	12. Matilda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things become vividly real when one is having a piece of their soul ripped out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YOU GREAT WONDERFUL PEOPLE! I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!! As always, thank you for such awesome feedback and I love each and every one of you. You really make my day! ❤❤

_If you are good, life is good._

Tony stood alone in the kitchen, coffee in hand, staring at his reflection in the silver fridge. What an odd sentiment. For years, he had stood by the belief that people were not inherently good. They were born selfish, and needy, and hungry for more and more and more. Tony had been born that way, he thought, with mouth open, screaming for something, as if he had known he would spend the rest of his life wanting and wishing, despite having everything. And Tony believed one could not be good and greedy. The two didn’t simultaneously exist.

 

But then there had been Peter, and watching the boy grow up, Tony was disturbed every day to find that it wasn’t the case with Peter. Maybe he should have initially been relieved or proud that he had produced a kid nothing like himself, not always wanting. Not always asking for more, but living quite content with what he was and what he had. Content with his father and his Pepper and his Uncle Rhodey and his Happy.

 

But it had horrified Tony. Because good things, around him, sometimes ceased. Or he flawed them up. And Peter had always been so good, in his soul, deep down to the tiny molecules in his body. Tony saw it every time a criminal harmed him and Peter would only laugh and web them up anyway or give them a chance to give up or make small talk. None of that had been Tony’s doing, he was convinced, it had to have been something deep in Peter’s genetic makeup that Tony had, had no part in creating.

 

Being good didn’t ensure a good life. It hadn’t for Peter.

 

Especially now, when Peter was trying so hard to save Loki. Being good and porcelain, and Tony hated that goodness suddenly. He wanted it gone. It made his own selfishness spike, and he would alter Peter if it meant saving him. Such a terrible and awful thing to feel, but it was the truth and Tony, maybe being an unreliable narrator, couldn’t admit it verbally, but he certainly felt it. It was as real as the scalding left behind by the coffee slipping down his throat.

 

Being good…What had it gotten anyone? What had it gotten him?

 

Of course he would never act on such feeling of disdain. They were dark thoughts, and Tony had spent so long trying to shove that darkness down it just seemed foreign on the surface. Like a sheen of sweat. He took another gulp, and another, hoping the bitterness would drown the murderousness. Tony felt vile in his own skin. He felt out of place.

 

“Stark.”

 

Tony whirled, his reflection disappearing in favor of Nebula standing in the kitchen entrance. Tony sighed deeply, shutting his eyes a moment before he shook his head. It felt a lot like talking to an irritating employee, back in the days of being a CEO, “Can’t you see I’m having me time?”

 

“We need to talk,” She stated bluntly, entering further until she was only a few feet away from him. A viable talking partner. Tony shook his head but she continued, “I heard that you are still set on destroying the stones.”

 

Tony blinked, “You heard right. Once Thor is back with Loki’s body and this whole debacle is over with, the stones will be next on my to-do list. And you’ll stay out of the way because this is the way it needs to be.”

 

She looked almost offended at the finality in his voice. Nebula hissed, “Do not speak to me as if I am your son. He might live to please you, but not me. You expect me to simply step aside as you and your friends destroy the stone that holds my sister?”

 

“That’s _exactly_ what I expect,” Tony snapped, “And no, you’re right you’re not my kid. So you can stop projecting your daddy-issues onto me. I’m _sorry_ about your sister, alright? You should have thought about that before entrapping your ‘dad’ in that stone.”

 

Nebula stepped forward, “And you think the magician and his friend are going to let you touch the time stone? Or what about Quill when he returns? You forget his attachment to my sister and the moment he finds out what you plan to do – “

 

“Sorry sweetheart, but you guys are on _my_ planet,” Tony interrupted, “Strange and Wong can be dealt with but you, Quill, and that little crew aren’t even on my radar as of now. I am at the _end_ of my fucking rope, you get that? I’m done playing negotiator, the stones are toast and _you’re_ going to have to deal with it so we don’t _all_ have to deal with Thanos again.”

 

Tony didn’t know what happened, but Nebula’s hand certainly shoved his chest with enough force to send him back into the fridge behind him. Tony grunted, impact spreading through his chest and his coffee spilling over his hand, mug shattering on the floor and liquid burning his knuckles. Tony groaned when Nebula’s hand wrapped around his throat and the back of his head snapped. Tony had to admit, he had let his mouth get ahead of him, and the abuse was well deserved. A part of him appreciated it.

 

“You think I won’t kill you?” Nebula questioned, “I’ve killed men for far less.”

 

Tony scoffed, and choked out, “And I’ve been threatened for far more.”

 

Nebula’s eyes burned and Tony thought surely he’d get stabbed or something. But instead the pressure on his neck disappeared almost as suddenly as it had come and Tony was left sputtering as Nebula was tossed backward, her lower back making contact with the kitchen counter. When Tony looked over, he wished he could say he was surprised to see Barnes standing there, having removed Nebula himself. But he couldn’t. He had known the soldier was mulling around the palace for days now, he had just done a hell of a good job avoiding him.

 

Nebula stood there, breathing heavily while Tony coughed a few times. He stood straight up, swallowing thickly as he studied both people. Barnes said nothing, just towered between Tony and Nebula as if ready to break up any more retaliations that might follow. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, straightening himself up just enough to look composed.

 

Barnes opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but footsteps running into the kitchen broke their trains of thought. Tony looked over to see Wanda in the entryway, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she announced, “Thor and the others are back. They have the body in the med-bay.”

 

Tony rushed from the room, and he knew Barnes more than likely wouldn’t follow. He had stayed far away from anything having to do with Peter in the past, but he could hear Nebula’s angry footsteps following closely behind as Tony kept up pace with Wanda, not wanting to get strangled in some dark corridor by Little-Blue-Peep.

 

When Tony entered the med-bay behind Wanda and followed by Nebula, Thor and Quill were working together to lay a pale, purple and blue body on one of the gurneys. Tony cast a worried glance towards his son who was still lying unconscious on his own bed, relieving Tony a bit. He didn’t know how the kid would react to seeing a dead Loki or how Loki would behave inside of him. Slowly, Tony approached, watching as Strange and Wong began a quick overview of the corpse.

 

Quill clapped his hands together, “One dead god, courtesy of yours truly.”

 

Thor glared briefly before looking at Tony and explaining, “The body will need to be prepared first, but hopefully that won’t take long. Then the Soul Stone and these two fine magicians can remove my brother from young Starkson.”

 

“Yes, it shouldn’t take long,” Doctor Strange confirmed, “I’ll need to mend his neck, and try to revive some of his internal organs that hopefully aren’t damage beyond repair.”

 

Tony felt a deep disturbance within him. He supposed he hadn’t realized they would need to use the stone to help move Loki to his body, but it made sense in hindsight. He had just assumed Strange and Wong would be capable of the feat without any outside help. Briefly, he glanced at Nebula before swallowing thickly at the dark look that flashed across her eyes. He knew she was going to say it before she did, but he had hoped she’d be wiser than to set off in front of Quill.

 

Triggering his temper was not advisable, that had been clear on Titan.

 

“Of course,” Nebula growled, “You’d be willing to use the stone to save your son but not my sister.”

 

Tony looked at her, eyes narrowed. It didn’t feel the same, it didn’t feel hypocritical, mostly because this wasn’t an attempt to remove someone that had no body. It was an attempt to move someone from one body to the other. Tony was more afraid of Maw, than anything, or accidentally freeing Thanos in the attempt to free Gamora. Then suddenly it felt hypocritical. And Tony felt like an ignorant shit.

 

_Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous. Go the whole hog. Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it's unbelievable..._

But this was by halves, wasn’t it? Removing Loki and putting him inside his body was half of what Nebula wanted. Nebula wanted the whole shebang and they had nowhere to place Gamora. But did she need a body? Thanos, after all, had been sucked into the stone whole. Unevenness and second guessing built a home inside Tony until he looked at his sleeping son and he realized he had to do this. He was selfish after all, he wasn’t good like Peter and right now he didn’t want to be good.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Quill held up a hand, “What about Gamora?”

 

Nebula looked at the man, maybe relieved to finally have someone that would be on her side, “Stark and the others plan to destroy the stones once his son is saved. That means destroying Gamora as well.”

 

“No stones are being destroyed,” Strange said, looking at Tony, “Right?”

 

Tony remained silent. It was true, they had been leaving Nebula, Mantis, Strange, and Wong out of most of the meetings. The consensus was to destroy the stones, but no one had been speaking about it, maybe just out of cowardice, but there was no time for people who disagreed. Thor stepped back and nodded his head, “I do believe the destruction of the stones would be in the best interest of everyone.”

 

“Well of course you would!” Quill shouted, “Your girl isn’t trapped in one!”

 

“Listen to me,” Tony demanded, “We told you when we called to get your location, Maw is trying to get in Peter’s head. Who’s to say he won’t try it with someone else, not even one of us but maybe just a palace employee or T’Challa or some shit? Killing an alien takes a lot more voting, but destroying the stones should be an easy decision.”

 

“We are sworn to protect the Time Stone,” Wong repeated his sentiment from earlier.

 

Tony laughed bitterly, “Can we get off that? No one needs the Time Stone. Don’t you people get it? These things have brought nothing but fucking tragedy to the entire universe. Their only use is to confuse, or kill, or undo things that needed to be done.”

 

Sure, there had been Vision. Sure, the Mind Stone had brought that but…Tony couldn’t hold onto that. It was all very wrong, and the look on Strange’s face gave way to sullenness. The wizard shook his head and he muttered, “This isn’t the time…I need to work on the body before it begins to decay.”

 

“So you’re just gonna give up that easy, huh Wizard-Man!?” Quill exclaimed.

 

“You’ll find that I’m not giving up, I’m just trying to focus on the task at hand,” Strange replied sharply, “Repairing a broken neck, even with the mystic arts, can be difficult so please. Shut. Up.”

 

Quill groaned, a lot like a petulant child and moved away from the bed where Loki’s body was lying. He walked towards Tony, face glowering and he pointed a stiff finger on the billionaire’s chest, “This isn’t over.”

 

“’Course not, Charlie Kelly,” Tony replied bluntly.

 

Quill made a face, silently saying he had no idea who that was. But he left the room without much more incident. Nebula left a little more slowly, and Tony could feel her eyes digging into the back of his neck but he didn’t care. He was distracted by Wanda, who spoke for the first time since she had come to get them from the kitchen during the whole debacle with Barnes and Nebula, “Stark…”

 

Tony’s head whipped in her direction and he saw her across the room, standing over Peter’s sleeping form. Tony moved towards them hurriedly, strides wide and his eyes flickered open and shut when he was beside the young woman. Peter looked…surprisingly peaceful in his sleep. However, dripping from his ear and sliding down his jaw was a dark, thick line of blood.

 

“Strange!” Tony called over his shoulder, “I’m gonna need you to be faster!”

 

…

 

“ _We are here…It is time, child.”_

It was always time before Peter was ready.

 

His eyes snapped open, Loki’s voice disappearing like an odd wave, an ocean pulling in and out and sand slipping under his nails. The ceiling looked like the same constellation within the illusion-mansion. The same pretend sky he had looked at so many times trying to sleep and not dream of a home he missed so much it ached. Sometimes Peter was acutely aware of how much of a child he was. Of how much he loved being that way and hating it at the same time. He could not remember what he wanted to remember and there had been a lot of that growing up.

 

Peter dreamed of his fingers, reaching for a ceiling in Malibu, in a house that no longer stood. Where the persistent sun was even more stubborn than his own father and would paint the ceiling golden with the sea’s morning. When Peter dreamed of things like whales and kangaroos but also men shooting his father in the stomach. But Peter blinked once, twice, three times and he no longer saw a constellation, but instead it was just white.

 

Someone was moving him, arms under his legs and his back and someone was cradling his head until he was being laid down slowly. His soft pillow no longer existed, and now there was a mattress that wasn’t necessarily hard, but it wasn’t soft either. He blinked over and over trying to get some kind of understanding of the world around him to dull the blur. It softened at the edges, and the back of his throat tasted like iron, like blood, like he had swallowed pennies.

 

He heard voices, far away, in a tube of sorts, and he turned his head just slightly to the right, seeing a figure only a few feet away, lying on a different bed…gurney? His mind connected the word to the object and he saw dark hair and Peter had to try very hard to see what it was, until Peter saw a mouth, a nose, a _person_. A person that was blue in the face, and purple, and certainly not alive…

 

Loki.

 

Loki. Dead. Beside him.

 

Close enough to reach over and touch.

 

Peter, with what little energy he had, was able to shoot up, in the opposite direction of Loki’s corpse just as “What the shit!?” Left his lips. But hands wrapped tightly around his wrists and Peter looked around, crazed, and eyes wide with horror. Peter’s brain couldn’t catch up, everything was whirling and moving and Peter couldn’t breathe past his fear. This was real. Loki was real, but yet he could still feel his life inside him. Still feel him existing and he too seemed startled by Peter’s fear of the dead body just a feet away.

 

To his surprise, with force, he was pushed back into the mattress. Whatever was wrong with him he couldn’t overpower whoever had a hold on him and his chest began to heave with a newfound panic at being restrained because no, no, no not since the bite, and Peter finally processed that the person was his father and he was almost certainly telling Peter to calm down, but he couldn’t because Loki’s dead body was _right there_.

 

“Holy shit!” Peter screamed, the world whirling into focus, “Holy shit!”

 

“Peter, calm down,” His father ordered and people were moving around them, drawing Peter’s attention as he gasped for panicked oxygen. His father went on, “We’re getting ready to do the procedure, but you have to lie down.”

 

Peter shook his head madly, “W-What procedure, what’s happening!?”

 

“They’re moving Loki’s soul,” His dad explained, “Strange and Wong are getting everything ready, it’ll be over as quickly as we can do it, but you have to be still or else it could make things harder.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened, almost bulging out of his head.

 

_“I mean what I’ve said,” Loki insisted, “I have been here too long…the removal will be strenuous and the chances of me surviving it become slimmer with each passing moment, and that will leave you completely vulnerable to Maw’s influence.”_

The brief conversation flashed through and Peter knew Loki was inside of him, about to explode because he knew what Peter was thinking. But Peter shoved particularly hard, almost being able to sit up fully, but suddenly another set of hands were there, assisting his father in controlling him, hands much stronger and Peter looked up to see Thor, shocking him slightly. The man placed a simple hand on his chest while his father continued gripping his arms and Peter gritted his teeth, a bit of anger overflowing at being handle like that.

 

“Stop!” Peter shouted, “Alright stop! You can’t, Mister Loki said it might kill him!”

 

Thor’s face looked pained by the statement, but he stated, “It’s a necessary risk, Starkson.”

 

“But he could die!” Peter didn’t get it. He didn’t get why Thor didn’t understand. It was making frustration swell and Loki was speaking, but Peter couldn’t hear him over his own turmoil in his head. He had been trying so desperately to protect the god but it seemed he couldn’t even get Loki’s own brother to side with him.

 

His father shook his arms roughly, “And if we don’t remove him you’ll die!”

 

Peter wanted to respond, but he couldn’t. He instead twisted at his arms a few more times before resigning that he wasn’t going to be released. He collapsed back against the mattress and Thor released his chest, stepping back a bit and once more, Peter could see Loki’s body there. His father continued to hold him in a bruising grip and Peter heard Wong say from somewhere that Peter couldn’t find with his eyes, “Alright…It’s time.”

 

Peter looked at his father, begging silently for him to reconsider. But he wasn’t budging. He just continued to dig his fingers in and Peter casted a glance at Loki’s body, his eyes terrified and his dad’s voice ordered sharply, “Don’t look. Look at me.”

 

His head snapped back towards the man and he stared up at him. He could hear both Wong and Strange speaking, chanting, doing something and Peter felt fear…No, he felt horrifically terrified, like being mortally wounded and scarred up and down his body. But then that theoretical pained turned tangible and suddenly he felt a burning sensation enter the pit of his chest.

 

Things become vividly real when one is having a piece of their soul ripped out.

 

Peter looked at his dad…And even though Peter was the one in physical pain suddenly, his dad looked about ready to jump off the deep end. Peter wondered…even with all of his death wishes why his father still chose to love him. After everything he had put him through and continued to put him through. His heart ached guiltily, though he tried not to let it, but it was drowned out anyway by the physical strain he was suddenly under.

 

_It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful._

Peter felt a lot like a disgusting blister.

 

He took in a shaky breath and was able to crane his head to look around his dad. Thor had moved towards the back of the room and at the foot of each gurney was Wong and Doctor Strange. They had their hands out, and floating before them was a vaguely orange speckle. When the light flashed briefly Peter felt the pain in his chest bloom again and he cringed, throwing his head backward and slamming it into the mattress, mind flaring in a bright orange light as if it had birthed from within himself.

 

“Stop!” Peter screamed, like fire, like everything was so, so wrong and he could hear Loki screaming in agony in his mind. Peter felt his soul, and never before had a thing become so tangible within him, it was like a limb, being torn in half, as Loki was pulled from him…Stuck together so long and he imagined super glue tearing his skin when he was ten and had glued himself to Ned’s Star Wars action figure. Leaving behind torn flesh, an open wound, bleeding profusely and it wouldn’t _stop_.

 

“Stop! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

 

Peter’s eyes snapped open, and so much like before, when his brown irises had welcomed green, they now welcomed bright orange, tearing in and pulling through, slicing Loki right out of him, stealing an organ and Peter’s back arched off the bed, and finally he ripped his arms from his father’s grasp, feeling where the man’s fingernails cut into him in an attempt to hold on. But Thor surged towards him once more, grabbing him around the middle and shoving him down with such force it felt like his entire head was going to explode.

 

Peter slammed his hand down into the god’s arm, which he supposed would barely feel like a tickle, and it did nothing. Peter felt every muscle in his body tighten, and his screams melted into something hoarse, voice gone and his dad was talking to him but all he could focus on was the fact that Loki had nearly been ripped out of him and Peter had grown so used to that feeling of having someone else there it felt like air touching a burn. Salt in a wound and then there, there, _there_. The orange flashed through and Peter let out one last agonizing wail before it disappeared.

 

Then there was a gasp. A gasp that wasn’t his and Thor released him. Peter’s head whipped over and Loki’s body was jolting upright on his own gurney and Peter’s face was sticky with the pain induced tears. Peter wanted to sit up, but there was still hurt, still stinging deep within him and he gasped for oxygen, unable to draw it in fully. They were shallow breaths, and Thor immediately moved to Loki’s side without hesitation while Wong did the same, however Strange moved to Peter and Doctor Strange gathered up the teen’s legs before looking at Peter’s father.

 

“Help me lift him, we’re moving him to the room next door,” Strange ordered and Peter wanted to shout for them not to touch him, but his father moved forward nonetheless and reached under Peter’s back, assisting the doctor in lifting Peter. The movement was rushed and Peter couldn’t exist, he couldn’t think as Doctor Strange and his dad put him in a totally different room with a new bed. He could hear his father saying something to Doctor Strange, a question, before the wizard responded, “It’s just until the souls readjust to their places…To prevent any complications.”

 

Peter didn’t know what could be more complicated than what he had just experienced.

 

He looked at the ceiling, the one that wasn’t a constellation and he grabbed at his skin while the two men spoke. His fingers dug, and they dug at the scrubs he was wearing, and he could feel his nails digging into the flesh above his sternum, but he just needed to get the burning _out_. But then his shirt was tearing slightly, small holes from the sharpness and his skin stung with each scrape until his father and Doctor Strange noticed what he was doing, noticed how he bleeding and under his nails was caked with his own blood.

 

“Stop, Peter stop it!”

 

Peter looked at him, “It burns, it’s burning, I-I can’t _breathe_.”

 

“Yes you can,” Doctor Strange was talking to him, but was simultaneously starting an oxygen line which seemed very contradictory to Peter. A mask was pressing over his nose and mouth and Peter’s father grabbed it, taking over for the doctor to hold it to Peter’s face. Doctor Strange ordered, “Deep breaths, Peter.”

 

He tried. He really did, but it wasn’t like normal breathing. At least it didn’t feel like it. It was as if his chest was too big to fill now without a whole other person there. His mind was too empty. His skin was torn open and Peter choked slightly but did as he was told. Peter questioned, though his voice was impeded by the mask, “Is he okay? Is Mister Loki okay?”

 

“Shhh,” His father shushed him while Doctor Strange began to cut his torn shirt away and started to stick those same wires to his chest, the ones that monitored him so closely. This new room felt colder than the last, or it might have been the newfound emptiness making him feel that way, “I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Focus on breathing.”

 

Peter shook his head back and forth.

 

He couldn’t.

 

Peter reached for his chest again, but Doctor Strange was quick to stop him and Peter just…he needed to claw it out, whatever the stinging and burning was, deep within, he needed it to go. He writhed, rolled onto his side briefly, and removing the oxygen mask he tried to push himself upward, but hands were pushing him down and his chest heaved.

 

“It hurts,” Peter insisted, “It hurts I can’t do this – “

 

“You have to lie down,” His father ordered, before looking at Strange, “What’s wrong? Loki is gone, why is he still in pain?”

 

Strange sighed, “It’s an open wound, Stark. It’ll have to heal like any other. Ripping two souls apart isn’t simple business…”

 

Peter knew his father was impatient but at this point he was too. An open wound was right…It felt fresh and the air felt like fire. Peter wished the ceiling would open up. He had never missed space. And he wouldn’t because of Titan. This wasn’t missing perhaps more longing for an out. That would be the only way to abandon the skin he was underneath. His father squeezed his arm, comfortingly, maybe to comfort himself, but Peter wasn’t there anymore. He felt like something else had opened up and taken him.

 

After all, becoming had always hurt, so, so much. Now he was becoming himself, alone, again.

 

When he looked in his dad’s eyes, he saw pain, he saw suffering and he wondered if his own eyes held that truth. A genetic predisposition.

 

A familiar voice came to him, before his eyes closed, familiar in the way it soothed but cut deeply at the same time.

 

_“You can save the girl from the stone. You’ve hurt so many, look at your poor father…But you can save Gamora, can’t you? If you’d only find the stones.”_

…

 

Loki had left himself behind a long time ago.

 

Death was as familiar a process as any and at some point during the process he and the boy had been subjected to, he had thought it was once more his time to welcome it. In all of his years alive, and dead, it had been one of the most agonizing experiences, and a part of him felt sorry that the boy had gone through it, though another part told him not to care because the boy had been the one to drag him there in the first place.

 

But now he had his own fingers back. His own limbs and he didn’t have to feel guilt for reaching for them without permission. Like how he had felt so badly for controlling Peter. The amount of distress it had coursed through the child was almost horrifying, and Loki didn’t know why. Maybe he had once never cared, and he worried that now he did.

 

Loki tended to only care for destructive things.

 

A loneliness appeared within him like a disease the moment he was placed in his body, his throat ached and he supposed it was a small price for being placed back into his body. A broken neck…yes, and all those things. Dying had repercussions, it always did and being revived did as well. He imagined he wouldn’t have many more chances to be brought back from the grave.

 

He _imagined_ even if he did, he wouldn’t really want to take them.

 

Loki shifted slightly on the bed he had been placed on. He could still feel Peter’s presence nearby, like a phantom limb of sorts, but he was just in the next room and the doctor’s assistant had been clear they would need to be distanced because souls had a habit of rejoining if not kept in check. It was all new, but the body was his, it didn’t feel like it anymore. There were eyes on him, eyes that belonged to his brother, but Loki would not look at him. He felt the urge to be alone, but he figured if he told Thor that, his brother would not obey his request in any way.

 

Finally, he did look at him, and he frowned at the blond.

 

“You’ve been staring twenty minutes, brother, I do wish you’d speak before I force myself to gather the energy to leave the room and escape this awkwardness.”

 

Thor’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he cleared his throat looking down at the floor. He made a slight movement forward and Loki already knew this would end in an irritating embrace from him, but it was bound to come eventually and he resigned himself to the fact that Thor tended to be a bit more sentimental than Loki preferred. Thor breathed out slowly, “I thought you were gone forever.”

 

“You usually do,” Loki replied, “You’re quite gullible.”

 

Thor was silent and Loki sighed, “You mustn’t always worry when I’m murdered, it happens so very often. Haven’t our reunions tired you yet?”

 

“Yes but this was different,” Thor sounded surprisingly frustrated which wasn’t often. The sappiness was a bit easier to see but Thor’s anger was reserved for silly things and Loki blinked a bit, surprised, “I had nothing. No home. No one. You were the only one left and Thanos stole that as well. I was…alone.”

 

Loki let out a slow, contemplative breath. He could see the tenseness in the other god’s shoulders and finally, Loki relented, “Well, go ahead.”

 

Thor seemed to know what he was referring to. A small smile slipped over Thor’s face and he closed the distance before wrapping Loki in a too tight embrace, as he typically did. Enough to make Loki’s back want to crack from the stiffness in him from being…well…dead and floating along in space. When Thor pulled away, his smile had grown and he looked rather surprised as he smacked Loki on the shoulder, making the god flinch slightly. He felt pain in his chest…residue from the removal, and his body hadn’t even been the source. He couldn’t imagine what Peter’s felt like.

 

“You seem to have grown soft,” Thor commented, “The boy’s doing, I presume. You must be fond of him. I hear he gives hugs quite freely.”

 

Loki’s eyes narrowed, “I am not ‘fond’.”

 

“Well, nevertheless, he is fond of you,” Thor hummed, “He went through great lengths to save you…Stark would have had you dead long ago, you have Starkson to thank for your survival.”

 

Loki felt a little frustrated. Of course he had Peter to thank. He knew he did, he had been there every step of the way, had heard every conversation, and had felt every ounce of the teen’s pain from his father’s rage that was sometimes misplaced onto the boy for just acting on his heart. Sometimes it angered Loki as well…He didn’t need a child to protect him and keep him alive, and there was always that ounce of guilt and Loki hated himself for allowing a human to crawl into his care so easily.

 

He ground out, “I know that. I have the boy to thank for many things, even if he can be a fool in some instances.”

 

“That makes two of you,” Thor smiled.

 

Loki stared at his brother. His thoughts felt burdened. He could no longer hear Peter and it was odd. The boy’s mind, even when frightened, had welcomed him to the best of its ability and it was strange, because he had been killing Peter from the moment they had woken on Titan. Somehow Loki had survived being put back into his body, but he knew, in the phantom pain, Peter could not be doing as well as he was. The child’s body had taken so much damage from his presence, it would take time to heal.

 

Loki supposed he really was foolish.

 

…

 

It had been one of the longest days of Tony’s life. Right next to that day on Titan…Or the Hydra incident…Or the day he had returned to Earth. The blurs that somehow molded together to make twenty-four hours and now all Peter was doing was sleeping, but he still felt incredibly anxious and relieved at the same time. He wished he could sleep as well, but a wall had been built up between himself and that world and he had to stay awake.

 

What for, he didn’t know. It was as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Peter was hurting sure, but he was going to get better. The hard part, the space between where agony and the real world was, it was done with…He just had to worry about the stones now, about getting Peter better. His life was saved, so Tony didn’t understand the dread that clung to him like the dirt on that godforsaken planet.

 

Peter shifted slightly in his sleep and Tony’s anxiety spiked. He didn’t know _why_.

 

“They’re going to meet about the stones soon.”

 

Tony whirled and standing in the doorway was Strange. His eyes narrowed only because he knew Strange wasn’t necessarily on his side when it came to the stones. Tony raised an eyebrow though and opted for the sarcastic approach because it eased worries enough to be bearable, “And I suppose you’re writing a fifty-page essay on why your Time Stone needs to be protected at all costs?”

 

Strange let out a deep sigh, entering the room further, “Listen…I have no ill will towards you or the boy or the rest of the universe, believe it or not. But this task was entrusted to me and I take I very seriously.”

 

“You know what I take very seriously?” Tony questioned, “A few things. Starting with the threat that’s inside the Soul Stone and the potential the Time Stone has for magnifying that threat. I also take being a father very seriously…and protecting my kid’s future…his _reality_ as you so kindly said when we first met…it’s what I do. And I’m not going to stop just because you and Wong made some kind of blood pact to keep the stone safe.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“I’ll be ridiculous all I want actually, because I’m getting kind of pissed off with you and Little-Blue-Peep. Now I’ve gotta worry about Quill and his rag-tag-team of idiots. I would’ve thought a fucking doctor could see this from a clinic perspective.”

 

Strange was silent, eyes narrowed on Tony. He then sighed, “You have to understand…I’m doing what I must do.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Tony stood from where he was sitting on the corner of Peter’s bed, “I don’t understand anything. Why things had to be hard just to save my kid, why everyone is struggling with this decision, I mean I can half-ass understand why they don’t want to destroy the Soul Stone, but you? You’re keeping the Time Stone for what? Pride?”

 

Strange hissed, “It’d take years to explain it to you. Your brain would explode.”

 

“Sounds like an excuse if I’ve ever heard one.”

 

Strange huffed, before stepping around Tony and approaching Peter on the bed. Tony’s eyes narrowed and he questioned sharply, “What’re you doing?”

 

“Checking his vitals,” Strange snapped, “Unless you’d like to wake Banner and make him do it.”

 

Tony fell silent and Strange did a brief overview of the monitors. The cuts on Peter’s chest had already begun to heal where he had tried to claw himself open, but just looking at them made Tony’s stomach churn, even if they were already pink. Ridged and almost gone, but they had been there. Peter had been agonizing and Tony had been able to do nothing. He cleared his throat, looking at the doorway that was empty before questioning Strange, “How’s the god of dickheads doing?”

 

“Loki?” Strange raised an eyebrow, “He’s fairing quite well, all things considered. I was glad to see that.”

 

Tony laughed, but it was bitter, “Of course…He’d be top notch after this while Peter is unconscious.”

 

“Peter’s body suffered extreme stress,” Strange explained, “I healed Loki’s body beforehand and made it habitable. His soul just needs to do some adjusting, while Peter will need to do that _and_ heal from the inside out. He is injured in a way my magic cannot reach and only time will fix.”

 

Time. Time…it was always about time and it was never the right time for anything. Tony turned away, looking down at the floor and he shook his head back and forth. He had never been patient and he wanted Peter better. He wanted the knot in the pit of his stomach to give him a fucking break already. He wanted to take Peter and Pepper home and try to get back to some sort of normalcy. To live their lives, plan a wedding, maybe expand their family one day if Tony could get over the PTSD from just the one kid.

 

“Stark,” Strange’s voice caught his attention and Tony turned to look at him. The doctor went on, “Your son will be alright…He’s strong and if he has made it this far he doesn’t have much of a choice but to continue on.”

 

Tony felt, that wasn’t so true…Peter had put the scalpel to his throat after all.

 

He couldn’t find words to respond verbally, his eyes fading into the wall behind Strange.

 

_“You seemed so far away," Miss Honey whispered, awestruck._

_"Oh, I was. I was flying past the stars on silver wings," Matilda said._


	13. Pinocchio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you'll notice this chapter is written a bit differently than my others. I really wanted something like a fever dream before the big show-down so strap in ladies in gents this is a weird one!

********* I’ve got no strings *********

Peter was, most certainly…Not himself.

 

His fingers held the apple slices, not too tightly as they turned brown and he was supposed to be eating them...A part of him knew his father would return from the third meeting the past week about the destruction of the stones, and that he would expect all of the slices gone, but that morning, ever since Peter had woken…He was not himself. No matter how hard he tried to reach for his own mind and body, he slipped with each grasp in the back of his head, he could not wrap his hand around it.

 

Since being alone in his mind, there had been a space for something else to crawl in, to make a home, and today was the day he was going to have to do what that thing wanted. Something like a puppeteer and Peter was simply a marionette doll. His eyes round and wide, worried, concerned about his own doing, but unable to speak it. He hadn’t spoken much of anything in the past week, besides when his father would come to see him. When he’d hold him so tightly the thing inside Peter seethed for its puppet to be released.

 

Once, it had even suggested Peter drive a syringe into his dad’s throat. But it was clear the anguish that would cause was too great, and Peter would never be able to complete the true assignment. The boy’s hands shook, the apple still changing colors but the thing in his mind hadn’t been letting him eat very much. Just enough to stay standing. Enough to keep him compliant. To keep listening and hungry and wanting food and wanting to tell his father, but the invasion had started ever since the empty space had been made, ever since they had taken Loki away.

 

_“Soon, boy…It will be very soon…And then all will be well again…”_

Peter didn’t believe the voice. He couldn’t reply to it though, it wasn’t like Loki, it wasn’t a soul, it was an intrusion. A violation. Peter’s shoulders shook, and he dropped the apple slice finally giving up on eating it. Even if he did somehow convince the Invader to let him eat, he wouldn’t be able to keep it down. The anxiety would make him vomit it up.

 

He wished for his father to come back, but then there was another part that didn’t. Peter was dangerous. He felt dangerous, like a ticking time bomb and he was scared the Invader would make him think about hurting his dad again. Peter pushed the tray away, almost in a fit of rage and it clattered to the floor, spilling all over the white tile, apples going everywhere along with the ham sandwich one of the palace nurses had brought him.

 

Peter’s chest heaved.

 

_Not himself, not himself, not himself._

******** to hold me down ********

Rhodey hadn’t actually intended to be the one to babysit Maw for the day.

 

Security had definitely been stepped up, especially after the incident with Peter and Loki and Maw trying to play creepy-mind control tricks on Rhodey’s nephew. But it all seemed to be a thing that had been avoided, taken care of, without signs of returning to the surface. When approached for the assignment, Rhodey couldn’t very well say no. He supposed it was because the thought of sitting through another meeting concerning the stones seemed almost unbearable and this was a good way to escape the situation.

 

The alien didn’t do much besides sit on its cot and Rhodey thought it’d be a day of much needed silence, after so many of shouting and bickering. However, he was wrong, because hour four of his assignment turned into small talk on Maw’s part, and Rhodey hadn’t really done the mental preparations to handle such things with grace.

 

“The boy cares a great deal for you.”

 

Rhodey didn’t turn around at first. He had been taught early on, prisoners need not be given attention and it was apparent that was what Maw wanted by going straight to conversating about Peter. When Rhodey didn’t answer to his prodding immediately, Maw continued, “He cares quite a lot for many people…I could see it when I entered his mind, but you are placed highly on the list, right beside his father and what is her name…Pepper Potts?”

 

Rhodey still refused to turn around, but he gritted his teeth shutting his eyes.

 

“He would think rather loudly,” Maw went on, “And he is so quick to blame himself. I wonder if I were to just…delve in a bit deeper, if I could convince him all of that were true…Do you think he would be naïve enough to think it’s his own thoughts, Colonel Rhodes – “

 

Rhodey whirled around, and faced the alien behind the glass. He fought the snarl in his mouth, he fought the white-hot rage that threatened to boil over there in that room, because taking one’s job seriously, handling it with care, that was what Rhodey had been taught. He was no hot-headed by nature, but even he had a limit, especially with the child he had come to view as family. The boy he had watched grow for so many years, had worried would suffer the same pain as his best friend.

 

He said, “My suggestion is you shut your mouth, before I have someone sedate you.”

 

Rhodey paused, then finished, “Or I could do it myself, the quicker way. Your choice.”

 

******* to make me fret *******

“I believe the raccoon and Quill are plotting your demise.”

 

Tony’s head snapped up. He had found one of the small sitting rooms in the palace, mostly to hide from everyone after yet another volatile meeting. He had assumed he was well hidden, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that the King of Wakanda was able to find him in his own home. The Black Panther stood above him, smiling in a joking sort of way that Tony wasn’t sure he had ever seen. His hands were folded in front of him, back straightened regally.

 

T’Challa had been sitting in on their meetings the past week. He had expressed little opinion and had made it clear he was there to make sure no one murdered each other in his own home or ended up destroying half a wing in a fight. Tony had appreciated the unbiased opinion of the king, but it put an unspoken pressure in their arguments. A piece of Tony worried T’Challa would pick a side, and choose the side of the Guardians and Strange in the process. Something Tony certainly had not wanted. Specifically, because the stones technically were in _his_ country.

 

“You forget Little-Blue-Peep,” Tony replied, “She’ll be leading with the torches.”

 

T’Challa chuckled before sitting slowly, both staring out the large windows into the beautiful scenery. The ground was still scarred from the battle, but it was lovely nonetheless and it made Tony forget somewhat about what was really going on. About the arguments, and meetings, and not just that, but Peter…Peter and his recovery were taking a lot longer than Tony had initially thought and sure, Peter insisted he was fine but Tony had raised the kid, he could see a spark of fear under his eyes. Though Tony didn’t know what from and that was what bothered him most.

 

There was something eating away at the boy, something that Tony could not reach.

 

“Your fiancée and my mother have grown quite close,” T’Challa stated, almost as if offhandedly, “She’ll be so sad when you all have to return home. Though my sister promises to teach my mother how to use a cellphone just so she can keep in contact with Miss Potts.”

 

Tony chuckled, half-amused, half-sympathetic. It was easy to love Pepper, just like it was easy to love Peter. Tony didn’t know sometimes how he had gotten lucky enough to have both of them love him back. Of course Peter was his son, he was born to that, but Pepper…Pepper had returned his affections despite all the horrible things he had done and all those years of PTSD putting a strain on their relationship. She had even come back after Ultron.

 

“I’ll find a way for them to contact one another,” Tony reassured, “That is, if Shuri can’t. Which I completely doubt, the girl is a genius. I hope she took most of the credit for _the Red Queen_ because she deserves it.”

 

T’Challa nodded, “Trust me, she told me all about it. She’s quite excited by the fact that she was able to assist in the amputation of the titan’s arm after he ‘dusted’ me.”

 

There was a silence. It followed and settled down. Tony wondered briefly why T’Challa had come, but he seemed to have no motive and Tony wasn’t going to push it. It seemed to be a friendly meeting and soon they would be going, Tony would be running for the hills with his fiancée and son in tow. But they had been there so long. T’Challa clearly viewed the Starks as friends now, through Pepper and the Queen Mother, and not just as fellow heroes who helped save the universe.

 

T’Challa tilted his head just slightly.

 

“Something is worrying you.”

 

“Other than the stones?” Tony questioned, “Something is always worrying me. It’s a part of my job at this point.”

 

T’Challa hummed, “But I believe it’s the boy this time.”

 

Tony swallowed. Was he truly so transparent? He folded his hands together, grimacing before he tilted his head just enough to look away. T’Challa quickly continued, “If you are worried for his recovery, I want to offer the palace services. I know you’ve favored Banner and Strange in his recovery, but if you’d like another opinion you need only ask.”

 

“He’s fine physically,” Tony finally responded, “Other than basically refusing food, he’s doing a lot better…But there’s something…I don’t know underneath. Strange says it could just be remnants of having such a strain on his soul. Something psychological. But that doesn’t feel right. The kid is terrified of something…”

 

T’Challa said, “Well, warriors often go through these things after a battle. And Peter has fought a hard one. He suffered a great deal.”

 

Tony grimaced, “I’ve seen PTSD before…I’ve _felt_ it before, and honestly I think I would know how to handle that better than whatever _this_ is. I’ve had Bruce and Strange look at him, he’s getting stronger, but he’s still…I mean, whatever is going on, it’s not physical.”

 

T’Challa only made a sound of understanding in response, but a part of Tony felt maybe he was silently deeming Tony to be an overly-concerned father who was struggling with the fact that his child was getting better when things had been wrong for so long. A part of Tony wished it was that. He wished it was just his need to protect his kid and to worry about every little change in Peter’s life. Like when the Spider-Manning had started. When Tony had thought Peter was on drugs. When he had thought Peter was going down the same path adolescent-Tony had gone down.

 

Another part of him wished that was all it was. Which was horrible, to rather your son be an addict than a hero.

 

There were pieces, falling together on the floor. Tony wished to put them back together, back to the way they were before the Snap. Though a part of him knew it wasn’t possible. Things had clearly changed, considering he was sitting alone in a room with the King of Wakanda. That was evidence enough that things were never going to completely go back to normal and maybe Peter never would either. Tony certainly wouldn’t. Because watching his son turn to ash was burned into his memory…Forever.

 

It was unfortunate he was such a control freak.

 

****** to make me frown ******

Loki stared at the human tree.

 

What an oddity.

 

The two of them had been alone for quite some time, but the creature had never looked over at him. Actually, it hadn’t even looked up from the little device it was playing with. Its face was contorted into one of deep focus, and Loki sipped silently on his water as he waited in the lounge room of the resident wing. He had chosen that day to claw himself out of the medical bay, out of bed, out of the clothes they had dressed him in into a dark suit. He felt more like himself that way, slightly put together.

 

It was fine the tree wasn’t a good conversation partner, because Loki had little interest in conversating past his drink of water. A part of him truly lacked the drive to say anything to anyone, besides to hear the fate of the stones. Some of his interest, since recovering had drifted to that. It was all that seemed to be captivating anyone, and since Loki wasn’t allowed to speak to Peter per Strange’s request while their souls mended themselves, he entertained himself with the politics of it all.

 

It was only about half-an-hour into their silence that the odd-looking girl, Mantis – Loki believed was her name from the depths of Peter’s thoughts – entered the room. What he recalled from Titan. It had been some time since he had last seen her. She looked oddly disturbed, her hands wringing together as she glanced down at the human tree who finally lifted its eyes to greet her silently. Mantis gave a wary flicker of her eyes towards Loki and he raised an eyebrow.

 

“Did they come to a decision?”

 

Mantis shook her head, and replied, despite her clear discomfort at not knowing Loki and yet sharing the information anyway, “No…They were as volatile as ever. I fear a decision will never be made and poor Gamora will be forced to remain in the stone forever.”

 

“Well, maybe that’s for the best,” Loki commented.

 

Mantis looked rather horrified, “She is so loved. I do not see how it could ever be for the best.”

 

Loki might have startled at that, but it didn’t slip through his indifferent façade that he worked so hard to keep in place. The tree was now staring at him, maybe with a hint of disdain and it was clear Thanos’ daughter had a whole band of people willing to protect her. Well, good for her, Loki thought, because it was a feat itself to escape such a dark and ever-looming presence. Clearly, she had not done it completely, because she was in the stone, still with the Titan but she had managed it for a short time, yet.

 

“You saw Gamora within the stone, correct?” Mantis questioned softly.

 

Loki nodded mutely, and Mantis went on, “Was she at peace?”

 

The god blinked, “I will not lie…She was not, Thanos still had a hold on her existence. One could not be at peace in such a way.”

 

Mantis didn’t look surprised, but she did look mournful and maybe regretful for asking. The tree let go of his little game to reach over and grab her arm, in a comforting gesture which Loki still found increasingly odd. She looked at the tree, gratefulness glossing over her face. Loki despite himself added, “But…from what I saw of her, she was strong willed. I think she is a valiant warrior.”

 

Mantis smiled softly at that, yet the sadness in her eyes did not yield.

 

***** I had strings *****

 

Quill had never feared that death would come for Gamora.

 

She had seemed much too strong for all that. Death had been rather minuscule and Quill had lost many people to such as that…To the wave swooping in and stealing his mother, his only father figure, things closest and fragile, but Gamora was anything but fragile and he supposed that was why he had never expected the same to happen to her. It had felt like an impossibility. Not even that, but it hadn’t even occurred to Quill it could even happen. Hell, he had seen the woman take out ten guys without batting an eyelash.

 

And to know she wasn’t really dead. She was in the stone, well it hadn’t come to him as a surprise because the woman could get through anything. But now it was Quill’s turn to finish the rest and he couldn’t even do that because the earth ‘mightiest heroes’ were being dickheads about the whole thing. Sure, he understood the risk. He got it, it wasn’t that hard to wrap his head around, but _fuck_. This was Gamora.

 

Quill longed for easier things. For simpler things. Just their crew, on their ship, floating around in space and doing odd jobs. The way it was always supposed to be, but ever since giving that stupid god a ride, things had been going to shit all around them. In an explosive, out of this world, kind of way that Quill wanted so desperately to escape from but couldn’t because apparently he couldn’t just take the gauntlet and run, even if he had put in the time and effort to help save the universe as well, no one was going to allow that.

 

No one was going to do what needed to be done to save his girl either and that pissed him _off_.

 

“Coffee?”

 

Quill looked over, the empty meeting room having gone silent long ago when they had agreed they’d have to all converse again because eight hours spent arguing was just too much and Quill was about ready to start cutting off people’s toes. In the doorway, was a young woman, one that hadn’t really been in many of the meetings and Quill wasn’t sure who she was but she had a tray and two mugs placed on top of it. Quill swallowed thickly and shrugged.

 

“Sure…Though I’d prefer somethin’ to get me fucked up.”

 

She actually chuckled lightly at that, before entering the room and setting the mugs down. Quill took one, feeling the warmth spread through his fingers as she sat beside him. She said, “Trust me…I think this is the better option.”

 

Her accent was light. Quill took a deep gulp of the coffee before, “Yeah well, you missed out on a very heated debate. You must not like meetings.”

 

“The stones no longer concern me,” She sighed, “The one I cared about was destroyed for the survival of the Mind Stone. I think it’s safe to say I’m not terribly invested anymore.”

 

Quill raised an eyebrow. Destroyed for the survival of the Mind Stone. Now that sounded shitty. Quill didn’t even know her name, but he suddenly felt very sorry for her and he was sorry in the way that she looked so tired and broken. In the way he had felt sorry for Baby-Peter. He had never seen her any other way, but he imagine someone so young shouldn’t seem so hurt. Quill cleared his throat, and questioned, “You lost someone?”

 

“Like you, yes,” She admitted easily, “And the stones are to blame. I heard what happened to your Gamora. Sacrificed for the Soul Stone…I had someone, his name was Vision…The Mind Stone created him, made him who he was, and Thanos killed him to retrieve it from him…”

 

She paused, then went on, “I know it doesn’t help…But I am so very sorry.”

 

Quill swallowed thickly.

 

“Do you think I’m being selfish?”

 

She let out a breath. Like she was startled or pained or something along those lines. She tilted her head just slightly before she finally gave her answer.

 

“I only wish I hadn’t been. By the time I wasn’t…it was too late.”

**** but now I’m free ****

The stones were being kept in the king’s vault.

 

How Peter ended up there, how he ended up standing over the unconscious bodies of two palace guards, was a mystery to himself, but not to the Invader. A puppet never knows what the puppeteer really wants from them until their hands are around someone’s throat, choking them into the world of sleep. Peter could only be grateful that his hands had been told to release before the real permanence had taken hold. The guilt may have shocked him back but not with repercussions.

 

_“The stones, boy.”_

The Invader, his voice so familiar, as familiar as the day Peter had stepped through the glass when Loki had rescued him. Now there was no Loki and Peter was alone, with the gaping wound inside of himself where he had been torn open. Peter sometimes believed in miracles and sometimes he did not. Sometimes he was horrified with himself and he was now, stepping into the vault, the walls high and floor marble, the door taller and wider than anything Peter had ever seen in his life.

 

Peter’s mind short circuited. Black flashed, and he had approached the gauntlet. Had found the stones. Was wrapping his hand around the index finger. He felt terribly cold on the inside. He felt an icy hand clawing in the pit of his stomach, climbing out and up his throat and he had the urge to scream, because he knew this was wrong. This was the voice, _the voice_ …The Invader.

 

_Maw_.

 

Tears formed in his eyes, he tried to get his hand to release. He felt the same drunkenness from before as he gritted his teeth and he growled, “Don’t make me…Don’t…”

 

A sharp pain shot up his back. It demanded obedience and submission. Peter’s eyes continued to fill with anguish as he lifted the metal that he knew should be heavy, but it didn’t feel that way in the slightest. Only he felt heavy. Only he felt like he was smothering beneath it. It smelled like pennies or maybe that was him, his mouth, the blood where he had bitten into his cheek with harshness. He compared oxygen with bile and he tried not to vomit.

 

“Peter.”

 

A voice, unfamiliar, spoke from the doorway of the vault and Peter whirled around. Standing there, a giant shadow looming, Peter was startled to see the Winter Soldier. James Buchanan Barnes. The man who had killed his grandparents, but against his will, like what Peter was doing now. They were one in the same, startlingly and Peter felt his heart stop at the confusion and yet fierceness in the man’s face. Like he understood, he knew, he got it…Everyone knew what Maw had done the first time, did they know now?

 

“Mister Barnes,” Peter whispered, but his hands would not release the gauntlet as the soldier came towards him, raising a hand, his real hand.

 

He ordered, “Put it down.”

 

“I – I,” Peter tried, and the pain only dug deeper, the Invader, Maw just screamed louder and Peter’s hands were shaking, an addict, he almost gagged. He tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t come, Maw wouldn’t let him say it. Peter saw Barnes’ eyes flicker to an alarm on the wall, one that one of the guards had tried to pull but had failed because Peter had been too quick and Spider-Man was _alive_ –

 

“Put it down, Peter.”

 

“I can’t,” Peter gritted out through his teeth, “You don’t get it.”

 

“I do get it,” Barnes reassured.

 

Oh…And maybe he did. They were one in the same. Peter couldn’t breathe suddenly.

 

If his father couldn’t forgive Mister Barnes, would he ever forgive Peter?

 

Peter’s eyes were watering, the gauntlet propped against the floor, held up by Peter only, and the boy shut his eyes tightly before opening them again and he croaked, voice wavering and unceremoniously breaking, and Peter was good at that, he guessed being not so strong but physically he could break everything, “It’s _inside_ of me.”

 

He was good at breaking things.

 

Barnes took a step forward, but Peter reached down, holding the gauntlet tighter. It was much too large, but Peter knew he could not touch the stones, so he would have to make do. He was so outside of himself. So outside of everything. Barnes breathed slowly, “You have to fight it.”

 

Peter shook his head vehemently, “I’m so _tired_.”

 

He lifted the gauntlet a bit higher, adjusting it in his hold, trying to make it more manageable –

 

But then Barnes was pulling the alarm. White lights were flashing, and Peter startled. Maw was there, so close, his mind twisted at odd angles and he had never realized someone could feel so lost. He missed Loki suddenly, so terribly it was hurting him. And the urge to scream was like that of flames growing in the wilderness. This was his nightmare, come to life, and the voice was louder and louder until Peter felt like his skull was splitting wide open with the invasion.

 

_“It has to be done now, boy! Do as I have said!”_

The gauntlet glowed.

 

And Barnes charged.

 

*** there are no strings on me ***

White flashed.

 

Peter hit the ground, Barnes slamming into him with enough force to break his ribs.

 

The marble floor cracked, and Peter’s head snapped into it, mind whirling before he processed what was left behind from the bright light and the flames that littered the floor like veins. The flash had exploded through the room, Peter felt singed, things were burning.

 

Thanos.

 

Injured, but escaped.

 

_Thanos_ , nonetheless.

 

And the puppeteer disappeared from Peter’s mind, leaving behind the realization of what he had just done.


	14. Peter Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were so young, and so afraid, and the worst part was, it wasn’t a foreign feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUDES! Is this really the second to last chapter? I CANNOT BELIEVE. Just thank you all so much for your continued love and support. AHHHH

_“To die…Will be an awfully big adventure.”_

Peter, in that moment, wished to be dead.

 

He had never hated himself so much. Had never been so weak as to hurt everyone around him in such a way. To bring Thanos back, to watch him grab the gauntlet that he could not properly use and run from the vault, Peter struggled to grasp that over the wailing of the alarm. Over Mister Barnes holding his limbs down, while Peter struggled to be freed. Because even though Peter knew Maw had relinquished the grip on his mind, Mister Barnes didn’t know that. Peter was the one that had let Thanos go, and now he was gone, and everything was running together, a mass confusion in his mind as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

 

“Let go!” Peter ordered, pulling at his arms, “You have to stop him! You have to let me go!”

 

Panic was left behind, with an intense need to fix what he had done. He destroyed and broke and this was his fault but Mister Barnes wouldn’t let go of him. Finally, the man stood to his feet, quickly, with very little warning and yanked Peter up with him and Peter stared in terror, because maybe Mister Barnes was going to kill him. Was going to hurt him for what he had done. They were no longer on the same side, after all, were they? Peter had messed up beyond repair.

 

He would never be forgiven for this.

 

Mister Barnes dragged him to the exit, the one Thanos had fled through, but then they were running into a whole new hoard of people. People and faces running together and Peter knew them, but names weren’t clicking and Mister Barnes’ hands were holding too tight, as if bruising the flesh on his arms. But then Peter saw his father in the crowd. Saw his face, the horror in reaction to Bucky having a grip on him and without warning, his father was surging forward, his nanobots beginning to overtake his body, but not covering his head and Peter felt the hard armor of his father’s chest slam into the side of his face, and he knew it was meant to protect, but his dad’s arm wrapping so tightly around his shoulders felt like blooming agony on his body and Peter’s eyes were watering.

 

Everyone was shouting. The king was most certainly there, and Peter saw Doctor Strange and Cap. Thor, and others, but most of all he saw Loki. Peter peered over his dad’s protective arm at the god, silently pleading, but everyone was yelling over the alarm, no one knew what was happening, and Thanos was gone with the gauntlet and God only knew when he would figure out how to Snap his fingers and once again wipe out half the universe, starting from scratch and Peter didn’t think he could survive turning to ash again.

 

His father was pointing a blaster at Mister Barnes, Cap had moved between them, and Peter couldn’t escape his dad’s grasp. He didn’t get it, he didn’t _know,_ and Peter shouted, shouted, and shouted, but no one was listening, and everyone was yelling. He couldn’t breathe until he finally screamed, voice shrill and begging to be heard, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, it was my fault, I’m sorry!”

 

This seemed to silence the chaos. His father looked down at him and thankfully the blaster that had been aimed at Mister Barnes lowered as well. The arm around his shoulders tightened though, and the metal of his dad’s armor dug deeper into his bruising flesh. His dad whispered, “What…? What happened…?”

 

“Maw made him do it,” Barnes’ voice stated from behind Peter, sounding breathless from the fight, “He made him…free Thanos.”

 

“Wait, what?” Doctor Banner’s voice and Doctor Strange questioned at the same time, until Doctor Banner continued sharply, “Thanos is free?”

 

Peter croaked, “Yes! Yes, and he took the gauntlet and ran off, I-I think he’s going to find Maw.”

 

He looked in his dad’s eyes. They were wide, full of a terror Peter had only seen on rare occasions. Terror Peter recognized so vividly though it hurt, and it was his fault the horror was there. No one said anything, a sharp minute ticking by as everyone thought and thought, because maybe it had been believed this pain had passed. This was something of the past, something that need not be repeated.

 

T’Challa, ever the king, broke the confusion, throwing out his orders.

 

“Banner, with me, we’ll have my sister put the palace on lockdown to prevent an escape,” T’Challa explained, “The rest of you, find Maw and Thanos and get that damned gauntlet away from them.”

 

Then everyone was moving. Like ants and running and Peter’s father pushed him from his arms into Loki and both startled at the sudden action. Peter gripped onto his dad’s forearm tightly, as Loki’s hands grabbed his shoulders. Peter’s eyes searched his father’s for some sort of explanation but his dad wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at Loki. His dad gave one, sharp order, “Get him outside. Now.”

 

“No!” Peter argued, attempting to surge forward, but Loki’s hands didn’t let go of his shoulders and he didn’t release his dad’s forearm in the slightest, even when the man tried to turn and join where the others had exited the vault, “No, Dad I’m sorry! I can help!”

 

His father whirled, but he didn’t appear angry. More so desperate as he grabbed Peter’s chin and said, “You’ll help me by _going_. Do you understand? Go, I’ll be able to focus if I know you’re safe, and you need to get out of here right now.”

 

But there had been Titan. There had been turning to dust. There had been all that luggage of fighting Thanos the last time, and Peter didn’t want his father to go without him for all of that. His dad started to undo his fingers, one by one and Peter still felt incredibly tired from having his mind boiled by Maw and Peter couldn’t draw air into his lungs. His father was shushing him, but he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t think, he just wanted to go with him, even if he had no freaking clue where his Spider-Man suit was.

 

“I love you,” His father stated bluntly, voice like a stone and startling, but it was sincere. It was just detached in the way a man going to war would be. A way not to stay and cower. Peter groaned when his last finger was unlatched, and his dad looked at Loki once more, “I’m trusting you.”

 

Then his father was turning, running, going to the fight and Peter shouted, trying to follow, but Loki’s arm was wrapping around his middle and there was a whirl of colors. A feeling like falling very fast on a rollercoaster and suddenly, fresh air. A cool breeze and Peter collapsed onto the ground, grass filling his nose and dirt caking under his fingernails. His stomach churned and he fought not to vomit as he looked up, seeing a night sky with stars twinkling but in the distance there was a palace. A beautiful palace, but it was so far away now, lights shining in the night and Peter screamed, slamming his fist into the ground in a burst of rage at having been dragged away. Teleported out by the god.

 

Peter turned and looked up at Loki, tears in his eyes as he shouted, “Why!?”

 

“Because your father was right,” Loki snapped harshly, staring down at him like a toddler throwing a tantrum, “You have no business facing Thanos, you are a child.”

 

Peter pushed himself to his feet from his knees, eyes narrowed. Even if they were teary they were caked with fire. He replied, “It’s my fault this is happening! I should get to help fix it!”

 

“It wasn’t your doing,” Loki stepped towards him, gripping his arms tightly, “It was Maw’s. Even your allies are more to blame than you, they should have known he would try again…They should have done away with him the moment he tried it the first time or rather I should have finished what I started when I had my hand around his throat.”

 

Peter swallowed. Loki would have done it, if Peter hadn’t asked him to stop. So really, it was Peter’s doing. It was all his fault, that Maw had been able to crawl inside and Peter took in a shaky breath, but stiffened himself, because he couldn’t cry now. Not when his father was inside the palace. In there fighting, to survive and to push through and Peter felt like he was only taking in small amounts of air even though he could feel his chest heaving up and down to bring it in.

 

“Mister Loki,” Peter whispered, “You have to bring me back.”

 

Loki shook his head, and Peter swallowed, this was simple, what was right and wrong. Peter had done something wrong. He had let himself be manipulated by that asshole. His father had almost hurt Bucky for stopping him. Everything had nearly gone to shit and it was so close to doing so now, all because of Peter not being strong enough. Now he needed to be. With or without his suit, he’d have to rely on himself and he’d have to rely on Loki being his friend, faith that he would listen and understand or at least try to. Everyone he loved was in that palace, not just his father but Pepper as well.

 

Loki’s voice was low, as if he was trying to be soothing and Peter had never heard him sound like it before, not this similar to a mother trying to sooth their child, “Maw may try to use you again…Or Thanos will use you against your father. I might find Stark irritating beyond belief, but I was asked to bring you here.”

 

Peter ground out, “I won’t let him use me.”

 

“You might not have a choice in the matter,” The god whispered.

 

Silence. It dripped…They couldn’t even hear the fighting that was surely occurring from within the palace. Peter straightened his shoulders, and Loki’s hands lightened up in the slightest. They were running out of time, Peter could feel it in the pit of his stomach. This battle would not be long, not if Thanos figured out how to use the gauntlet with his severed hand or freed Maw long enough to have him use it. There was no _time_.

 

“Then help me.”

 

_“I suppose it's like the ticking crocodile, isn't it? Time is chasing after all of us.”_

…

 

He should have known.

 

Tony should have known.

 

He had been so busy, pouting over the fact that Peter wasn’t instantly better after Loki’s removal that he hadn’t even taken the time to see that the kid was being fucking invaded by a psycho alien. No, no one had noticed, except Barnes of all people and when Tony had entered the vault, when he had seen the Winter Soldier restraining his kid, he had been completely ready to kill him right then and there. But in actuality…Barnes had been the only one there for Peter. Had been the one to try and stop his son from doing what he did. Free Thanos.

 

Tony should have _known_.

 

But he had let himself be distracted. Bad things that happened usually came from such things. Being distracted about his break up with Pepper and Peter being bitten by the spider in the process. Tony not noticing until he had already recruited his kid to fight Cap and his team, and Christ…He did that so much and there was no else to blame. Other than Maw and Thanos of course, the real assholes of the entire show. But that was a given. There had to be a root and Tony was the root. He was always the root.

 

It should have been easier than it was actually. A whole lot easier, as they rounded each corner, because there were so many of them. Nebula led the group, a blade in hand, face set in stone, and it should have been _so easy_. Thanos didn’t have a fucking arm, he couldn’t use the gauntlet, it was just the titan and Squidward. A piece of cake, but when they entered the room, large enough to hold only half of them, there was no one.

 

Then there was someone. Two someone’s.

 

A wave of energy, from Maw no doubt threw the group into the wall. Tony slammed hard into the stone, body jolting and everything spun, even with the suit on it was a heavy blow and he hit the ground, Rhodey even falling on top of him, adding extra weight that he didn’t need. There was a roar, courtesy of Thor, and when Tony looked up, both the god and Steve were having a field day with Thanos. And though the gauntlet was glowing, it wasn’t being worn, and Tony could only theorize that minimized its effectiveness.

 

Nebula was next to stumble to her feet, charging, blade drawn outward and Rocket firing some kind of smaller gun towards the Titan. She threw her blade, just as Thor and Steve threw their own fists and Thanos stumbled back when it cut into his un-mangled arm. Rocket snatched the gauntlet, but just as his tiny hands wrapped around it, Maw swung his arm, sending both Rocket and the gauntlet out the giant set of doors and over the balcony on the opposite side of the hall. Rocket plummeted down, slamming into the marble foyer two floors down.

 

Well…despite the raccoon possibly plummeting to his death, that got rid of the gauntlet for the time being.

 

Tony jumped to his feet, when Rhodey finally got off, but he didn’t get far before Maw raised his hand, sending both against the wall once more, but this time holding them there. Tony could barely think, Thanos still managing to hold his own against both Thor and Steve and Nebula despite being injured, but it was apparent without the gauntlet it had become a bit more difficult. Tony struggled against Maw’s hold and he shouted, “Why don’t you play fair, asshat?!”

 

“Why don’t you concern yourself with your son,” Maw sneered, “I imagine he is in great distress right now.”

 

Rhodey muttered, straining, “Should’ve killed you.”

 

“Yes Colonel, you are all failures today,” The alien’s mouth turned upward slightly, just as Barnes’ appeared, slinging a wooden chair towards Maw. Maw went sprawling out, sliding across the floor and both Rhodey and Tony were released. Tony didn’t cast a thank you glance, his mind supposed it was needless. An unspoken thing, but Maw was finding his footing again without much prompting.

 

Barnes began to stomp towards Squidward, growling, “You like playing mind control games, huh?”

 

There was this moment, brief, where Tony thought Barnes was going to end it. But Maw put a stop to that almost immediately, latching on with his mind and slamming the super soldier into the wall, over and over again before Tony’s thoughts had any time to react. Only when Rhodey shot towards them did Maw release Barnes and allow his body to fall to the floor. Barnes rolled onto his back, clearly dazed from the assault and Tony actually found himself feeling bad that his shock had delayed a reaction. But Thanos was there, in that room, roaring angrily. There were no quips. No dialogue, this was all survival, this was stopping another Snap. Something Tony would never be able to properly grasp was even a possibility in the here and now.

 

When Nat, Sam, and Strange moved forward, Bucky’s body became a projectile, swung into them and slamming them to the floor. A part of Tony knew Sam would not take kindly to that later, his wings crumbling upon impact. Tony only got to take one step, before he felt his muscles tense, and Maw shot towards him, slinging both of them through the doors and Tony found himself pinned back against the railing of the balcony that Rocket and the gauntlet had been thrown over. He grunted, Squidward getting inches from his face as he smirked cruelly down at the man and Tony turned just enough to see Quill, Groot, and Mantis rushing down the stairs. Whether they were hurrying to check on Rocket or to get the gauntlet, he didn’t know.

 

“Your son’s mind was quite soft, Stark,” Maw hummed, “Full of happy memories of you. I’ve never seen a child idolize his father in such a way…It’s tragic that it’s so misplaced.”

 

Maw raised a hand, and though Tony expected the blow to come to him, it didn’t. Instead there was the sound of crashing, and Tony’s eyes found the staircase once more, just in time to see the marble begin to rip up, the railing splintering outward and Quill, Groot, and Mantis went tumbling down, disappearing into a cloud heap. When Tony returned his gaze to Maw, knowing he would be next, two giant arms wrapped tightly around the alien’s shoulders, and Drax’s face appeared from seemingly nowhere, squeezing Maw in a sort of bear hug. Tony tried to remove himself from between Maw and the railing, as Rhodey came into view as well, gripping either side of Maw’s head with his metal covered hands.

 

Then, the lights flickered.

 

Pitch darkness surrounded them and there was silence, besides the fighting still sounding from the cell a few feet away within the large double doors.

 

Tony blinked, and though below his mask he could see, the room powered back up, but now in a red hue. Something that told Tony this was the lockdown.

 

As if on cue, an automated voice sounded throughout the palace.

 

“LOCKDOWN. LOCKDOWN. LOCKDOWN. LOCKDOWN – “

 

Maw screamed, throwing both Drax and Rhodey off his body, fingers shredding part of Rhodey’s suit in the process, spilling out small shells across the floor. Tony could hear Quill and Mantis shouting from below, buried in rubble maybe from the shattered staircase. Steve, Thor, and Nebula were still fighting and Tony wondered if Strange, Nat, Sam, and Barnes had managed to scrape themselves up yet. Tony raised his blaster, charging, but just as he shot the beam outward, Maw’s hand rose, one of the shells rising with it.

 

The blast made contact.

 

There was a flash of light and everyone went flying.

 

…

 

They phased back into the palace, almost as soon as they had left. Peter felt his body solidify, coming together in a familiar corridor that he knew was on the first floor of the guest wing, near the kitchens. A place that had been their home for what seemed like forever now. Peter glanced at Loki, no alarm blaring anymore, but the room was engulfed in a red color from what seemed to be emergency lights. Over the intercom, a voice repeated the words ‘Lockdown’ over and over again, making Peter cringe slightly, his enhanced hearing charging him.

 

“Do you think they’re still where Maw was being kept?” Peter questioned, looking up at the god.

 

Loki didn’t get the chance to answer. A loud popping sound shook the walls of the corridor and their question was answered for them. Peter didn’t look back and instead started to run forward, not bothering to assess the fact that he was still dressed in the scrubs he had woken in that morning, barefooted and completely unprepared for a battle. They followed the sounds, following the shouting down hall after hall and Peter just prayed he knew where he was going.

 

It had to be the right direction though, the sounds of battle drew closer in his ears. Just as he rounded the third corner though, his body slammed into something hard and Peter was sent backward, Loki barely catching him before he hit the ground. A blade formed in Loki’s hand, rising, but a limb surrounded by a red fog pointed towards them as well. Peter’s mind connected the dots and he shot forward instantly, out of Loki’s hold, exclaiming, “Wanda!”

 

She let out a breath, sounding startled, “Peter? What are you doing, I nearly killed you both!”

 

“The better question is, what are _you_ doing?” Loki snapped, “You’re a bit late for the fight, darling.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, “Well, I was sleeping. Like a normal person does at this hour, and I wake up to alarms blaring and apparently everything is going to shit!”

 

Peter cringed, inwardly. His fault. His eyes averted, trying to find a way to explain, but Loki did so for him, a little bit to his relief because he wasn’t sure what exactly he was going to muster up in response to her rant. The god huffed, “Thanos has escaped and my guess is he has freed Maw as well. We’re going to see if there’s anything left of this battle to salvage because the boy doesn’t know how to take orders from his father.”

 

Peter glared, but only briefly before they were moving again down the halls. Peter led, heart hammering, and body trembling. Weakness was in his bones, from exhaustion or lack of food he didn’t know. He was starving, now that Maw was gone, and he regretted throwing those apples down in his fit of frustration.

 

The three of them kept going and Peter kept trying not to be afraid, but unfortunately he was. He struggled to not be, and he wondered if his father was afraid right now. Peter had once believed his dad could never be afraid of anything, but he had learned, quite recently, that wasn’t true at all. His father had been very afraid, and Peter supposed the bravery was from him not letting himself run away like a coward. Peter sometimes felt like a coward, there in the red world surrounding him. Because his hands shook, not from being weak, but from being scared.

 

He was terrified.

 

As they rushed into the foyer of the first floor, Peter immediately looked up seeing people above on the other side of the railing fighting. Dust clung in the air, and there was a flicker of fire, maybe from the explosion they had heard, Peter wasn’t sure, but he was distracted by shouting just a few feet away. The raccoon was there, holding the gauntlet, and Peter was thankful it wasn’t in Thanos’ possession. Trapped under rubble though, appeared to be Groot, Quill, and Mantis. Not crushed, but stuck and the staircase seemed to be a pile of nothing. Loki moved towards them first, while both Peter and Wanda followed close behind.

 

“What the fuck…?” Rocket snapped, “Pretty sure I saw your dad send you running for the hills.”

 

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Well, it looks like it’s a good thing I didn’t stay that way…”

 

He looked at the rubble, reaching out, and despite the exhaustion in his limbs, he was able to help push most of it off, Wanda and Loki taking care of the bigger pieces and finally freeing Quill, Groot, and Mantis. Quill stumbled to his feet, pushing the dust off his clothes as he huffed, “That no-nose freak just got himself a swift kick to the dick.”

 

But the anger only lasted a brief moment before the guardian’s eyes landed on the gantlet that Rocket had propped up against a particularly large piece of debris. Wanda seemed to notice his gaze as well, because she held out a hand and ordered, “Don’t.”

 

“What?” Quill snapped, “What do you mean ‘don’t?”

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Wanda explained, “We don’t need to risk anymore…issues concerning the stones.”

 

Mantis spoke softly, “But if we freed Gamora – “

 

“I think it was made very clear we have no idea what we’re doing concerning those stones and it’s best to let them be,” Loki growled.

 

Peter looked around the group. Even in the odd lighting he could see their faces, though dust swirled and made his eyes burn. There was still the sound of fighting upstairs and he glanced, seeing flashes, maybe from a blaster but it could have been his thoughts, just trying to frighten him. His heart fluttered slightly, hope building in a way it hadn’t in quite a long time. The same hope he had felt when he first became Spider-Man. When he started his crusade to help save a city that maybe could never be saved from itself, but Queens had been his mother’s home…he had to try. Gamora was Quill’s home. She was kind. Quill’s eyes held longing and Peter cleared his throat before stepping towards the gauntlet, gently moving Rocket aside.

 

“I think I can do it.”

 

Loki’s hand grabbed his arm and he yanked, “What? What makes you think you know any more than we do about removing that girl?”

 

“I freed Thanos, didn’t I?” Peter whispered.

 

When Peter went to turn around, Loki’s hand tightened in the slightest, “Peter if…”

 

“If I’m wrong, it’s my fault,” Peter finished for him, “I know…But we have to try, for Gamora.”

 

Loki still looked hesitant. His hand finally did release though, and Peter felt like there was something else to say, but he couldn’t muster the words. He wanted to say thank you, because even if Loki hadn’t enjoyed their friendship, Peter trusted him so much. Almost on the same level as Ned. They had shared a body after all, he had become familiar with the god’s thoughts, good and bad. And the way Loki was staring at him with genuine concern, Peter knew the same could be said. But Peter had considered Gamora a friend too, inside the stone. She had done her best to help them, and now it was Peter’s turn to help her.

 

He turned, grabbing the gauntlet from where it sat. He didn’t lift it, simply held on, staring at the glowing stones, eyes settling on the one he knew to be the Soul Stone. There was a burning behind his eyes, and heavy and _fire_. It wasn’t the same feeling of turning to ash or being teleported by Loki. It felt like the mirror, the mirror that was so long ago, when it had sucked him inside and under the surface of unseen waves.

 

Peter had never missed this. Had never missed feeling like he was being swallowed up and instant of regret, but he couldn’t allow anyone to suffer due to his own short comings. His own fear, and it needed to be done. Because if he was lost within the stone, what did it matter? He was useless to the fight against Thanos anyway. He was too tired and weak and it was his fault Thanos had been let out in the first place. Peter had failed his friends and he had failed his father. In simplistic terms, he deserved it.

 

A part of him, however small, knew it was the genetic self-hatred that he had somehow inherited from his father. But it was hard to see things up close, and Peter was always inches away from being crippled from the inside forever. He couldn’t gain that distance needed, he couldn’t gain anything. Maybe it was just a part of being a child.

 

Peter opened his mouth.

 

Shouted.

 

Water filled.

 

…

 

Surface.

 

However soaked, and dampened it was, it was a surface. Tangible and solid, enough to prop himself up on his hands and knees as he gasped and coughed the water up. It was different than passing through the mirror in that when the orange world surrounded him, he had never choked so desperately before on anything. Now it was only him, in his state of drowning, gagging up water like it hadn’t just been inhaled, but it had been ingested.

 

There was this familiar displacement of flesh not being on his bones, of muscles detaching and not being an actual human being, but just simply a soul. He didn’t know what he expected out of the Soul Stone though, out of the world he and Loki had fought so hard to escape, but now he didn’t feel so trapped. Now it felt like a choice, not barred windows and doors, and mansions made of illusions. Cold floors and fireplaces to sleep in front of. This was a decision, made by him, a rescue, and he heard crying. Small and quiet, that of a child younger than Peter.

 

He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly, eyes gazing the expanse of nothing until he saw the familiar structure several feet away from him in the shadow of the world. The columns still stood and sitting upon the steps, was a tiny figure, curled in on itself and shoulders shaking uncontrollably, making it clear this was the source of the crying. Green hands gripped knees and Peter wanted to shout, because this was Gamora, little Gamora, but she hadn’t even noticed him, so beside herself in her tearful wasteland.

 

Slowly, Peter approached, each foot stepping closer carefully, with as much tact as he could muster to fight off his feverish need to grab her and go back to the physical world. There would need to be compliance, something told him that, as not to risk another incident with Loki. Gamora had no body, but Peter was in control of the stones now. He could give her one if he so chose to, form it with a simple thought of his mind. Six stones could do such things, just as they could turn someone to ash and the knowledge opened up, in the voice of Vision at the base of his neck. As if Jarvis had returned from the depths of wherever.

 

And nothing against Friday…But Jarvis had been the best.

 

She still hadn’t looked up, even when he was only a few feet away from her, his face pulled downward in a frown. He tilted his head, swallowing, looking for words and a way to take hold of her attention through whatever hysteria that was gripping her and making her cry. He felt guilty for some reason and he didn’t know what for. But carefully, like a wounded animal were before him, he kneeled down, before reaching out and taking her small hand in his.

 

“Gamora?” He whispered.

 

Her head lifted, slowly. There was no shock, no surprise, just agony etched into her features. Her chest heaved and she croaked, “P-Peter…You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“I came back for you,” Peter replied.

 

She shook her head, “He escaped.”

 

Peter bit his lip. Before he could say anything in retun, words began to tumble past her lips, “I tried to stop him…to keep him here, but even though he was injured he was still too _strong_ – “

 

“I know Gamora,” Peter interrupted, “I’m the one who let him out.”

 

He didn’t have the heart not to tell her. To lie. His soul was simply bare in this world and he supposed hers was too. She looked at him, eyes sparking with horror and confusion and Peter felt the guilt only intensify, but he fought it down, swallowing. Instead he focused on breathing, trying to draw air into his lungs and failing miserably, but it was enough to keep him alive. She leaned forward, eyes wide, but instead of lashing out like a piece of him thought she would, she cupped his face gently in her small hands.

 

“Why?” She sounded betrayed.

 

Peter’s lip quivered, but he didn’t cry, “Because I wasn’t strong enough…Maw got inside my head…And now everyone is trying to fix what I did, but…I’m here to get you out. I’m here to bring you back.”

 

Her hands remained a few more moments. Just a few, before they dropped down at her sides. She shook her head back and forth and Peter instantly felt some kind of panic bubble up at the action, because she couldn’t say no to going back. He couldn’t leave her again and Peter didn’t want to go back to Quill empty handed, without the woman he loved. Or watch Nebula’s anger at not having her sister back. So much pain had been emptied into this mission, this mission of getting Gamora out of the stones, and once they succeeded, maybe they could really get rid of them…Forever. Prevent Thanos from ever repeating and repeating and repeating.

 

Peter longed for an escape from all of these decisions, but they had to be made and he couldn’t be indecisive forever. Being young had brought a lot of indecisive aspects about in his life and avoidance. Just wanting to escape everything and everyone. Wanting it to be just him and his family, no villainous outside force to hurt them. But this was what it was, and if Gamora wished for that same escape, she couldn’t have it, because it wasn’t Real.

 

Being Real meant Becoming and Becoming was painful. It hurt.

 

That was just the reality of it.

 

That was what made it important, only the important things cause pain when they come and go.

 

She said, “I cannot…”

 

“Why?” Peter breathed desperately.

 

She bit her lower lip.

 

Gamora looked so young, he could not have imagined her ever being an adult. The fierce protectiveness was a natural response, he thought, and he suddenly understood why his father ached so much to keep him safe. He heard the stories of when his father first saw him, of yanking him out of the foster system in an instant. Peter had never quite grasped why he had been so rash, because clearly Peter had been alright with his foster mother. But now he got it. His mind clicked and Gamora wasn’t even his kid and Peter was only a child himself.

 

“I am afraid.”

 

It came out quiet, and small. Peter had never related to something more in his life and he grabbed her hand in his once more, squeezing as tightly as he could without hurting her. His eyes burned just a bit, because he wanted so badly to reassure her it was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t promise her anything because he too was scared and he knew Thanos was on the other side of the stone. Peter could give her a body, could build one from thin air with the help of the stones, but he could not promise it wouldn’t meet its end once more.

 

They were so young, and so afraid, and the worst part was, it wasn’t a foreign feeling.

 

Fear was everywhere.

 

“I am too,” Peter replied, “But I’m with you.”

 

Her hand that had been lax until then gripped his back, hesitantly. Her eyes, still afraid, filled with trust, right to the brim. Around the lashes. Peter pulled her to her feet, his mind reaching out to the stones, to the gauntlet, the things left behind in the physical world where he still was, he knew, but his heart was here with tiny Gamora. They would go back and fight he supposed. They would fight to win or to die. Endings were always so horrid.

 

There was a twinkling in her expression. Twinkling like a star and they were both children that had been set aside by adults with the intention to protect, but possibly, it was worse to be unable to intervene. So they faded, pulled back down beneath the surface and the sky opened up into a bright sunshine that wasn’t real.

 

_“Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on forever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So, the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder.”_

And though Gamora was smaller, Peter theorized he was the little one, still wondering.

 

…

 

Tony woke, singed, even under his armor.

 

In retrospect, maybe accidentally shooting the shell hadn’t been the wisest thing to do. Warm blood prickled him, it smelled of the stuff and burned hair, reminding Tony of Killian and being aboard that awful rig. Of watching the love of his life be swallowed up by flames, and he flashed there and back, similarly to the wormhole above New York. It wasn’t the time nor place for such a trigger to pull itself in the back of his mind but it did anyhow and he was left reeling, grasping, trying to escape a certain memory that would make it nearly impossible for him to get through anything.

 

His ears were ringing, the room still red, his armor torn from the explosion. He had been thrown back, body stuck between the double doors, the frame digging into his side as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Dust filled the room, as if someone had just started shooting and never stopped, smoke causing Tony to cough as half of his mask had been blown to pieces. He could feel small shards of metal stuck in his cheek, and he knew that would probably not heal by the wedding day.

Of course, it may have mattered very little, as Thanos’ shadow swung both Thor and Steve around, throwing his one fist in a rage, roaring like a wild animal. Thanos and his soft speaking, reduced down to a trapped creature, overrun and injured and suddenly Tony wasn’t so scared anymore, despite the pain in his side and his face from the explosion. His fault, really, and rubble covered the floor as Tony slowly pushed himself up, groaning, trying to hear past the overbearing sound rattling around in his skull.

 

Tony held onto the wall, his hand molding, calling forth the blade from his armor.

 

It was all predestined, he didn’t know if that was true, but it felt like it was. He remembered having that blade dug into him. The same blade that made it impossible to protect the son that stood in front of him to take the killing blow that Thanos had deemed necessary. Even though that said blow never came, Tony imagined it. He saw it in his mind over and over, saw his son refusing to step aside and Tony could do nothing because Thanos had used his own weapon against him.

 

Tony had sworn after Afghanistan no one would use his weapons against him again.

 

But Thanos was the bastard that had, and Tony stumbled slightly and he wondered if maybe something internally had been damaged in the explosion, and if so, Pepper was going to kill him for pushing the wedding back even further. Then she’d resurrect him, with her understanding eyes and the way she pushed his hair back. She did the same for Peter, when the boy was in such a state that Tony could not help, or when Peter was crying _because_ of something Tony did. He would love Pepper forever, for being the mother that his son had been robbed of by Hydra.

 

To march to one’s doom was something to call such thoughts. To hope Pepper would still be a mother to Peter if Tony didn’t ever walk out of the room again. To hope that Rhodey would take care of his kid for the next two years, until Peter could be eighteen, a fucking adult, that was so hard to believe. It was so hard to believe Peter was no longer small. But Tony had sent him from the palace like he was because forever and eternity were so, so long and Peter would be a child for that long. He would never grow up.

 

_“Never is an awfully long time.”_

But it felt longer than never.

 

Tony raised the blade, readying to strike Thanos from behind, between the shoulder blades. To make him feel what Tony had felt when his flesh had been invaded by his own creation. Thanos created nothing though, the hit wouldn’t be the same, Thanos only ever destroyed. He only ever broke, he never built. He didn’t believe in that. He believed all creation was broken, but he was wrong, Tony had made some amazing things.

 

And if he had looked at Peter long enough – had stared at Tony’s greatest creation for just a moment longer – maybe he would have been able to see that.

 

But Thanos was something that ignored. He was a creature of chosen ignorance, no matter how much he claimed to be enlightened. He hadn’t been shown the same way Tony had been shown. He hadn’t seen the same things. The world would open up and swallow them whole and sure there was always the possibility of their sheer size destroying each other, but it was a part of living. It was a part of getting through existence in one piece, it was what made it worth it when the line finally finished and you could shut your eyes for possibly the last time. Otherwise it was for nothing. Otherwise it all became a wasteland. Before Peter, loving things and creating and growing being alive had felt a lot like that and Tony wondered, if he had continued on in such a way, if he’d feel the same as Thanos. If he would be the same monster. After Ultron Tony had viewed himself as something similar, but he knew better now and that ounce of self-hatred flitted away like it had never existed in the first place. He was something of an oddity now, he didn’t know how to peg himself, but being the same as Thanos was not it.

 

As the blade rose though, something grabbed hold of Tony’s arm. He struggled with it a few moments, until he was whirled around, and the charred, swollen face of Squidward appeared. Tony shouted, pulling to free his arm, but the blade was torn away, and that had been a mistake he hadn’t fixed. Usually he was so quick to prevent repetitive things but here he was. He hadn’t had the time after all. It was torn away, and Maw grinned, but he had to be in pain…He had to be because he was bleeding from his mouth and his ‘not-nose’, gushing and burned.

 

He looked like something from a horror movie and the music would have just spiked at the change in power.

 

The blade floated in the air, above Tony’s head and suddenly all of his figurative fears were real. Worrying about leaving Peter alone, about Pepper and Rhodey being the ones to care for him, and Tony had written a will long ago, but he was not ready to leave his son behind. He wanted to watch what he would do. His own parents had never seen it…Had never seen the wonderful things he had done, and sure Tony had done some awful things, but Peter was not one of those.

 

“Stark,” Maw growled, “You’ve become something of a pest.”

 

Tony, stuck in some hell-sent telekinetic death grip, was tempted to scream. But he didn’t. He gritted his teeth. He readied to be struck down. It was how those pretend heroes on television fell after all, it was the way he had to go too. Tony was not made for happy endings, Starks in general weren’t. But he so hoped the same wasn’t true for Peter. Every part of his soul wanted Peter’s life to be full and happy and if it meant taking a blade to the throat right then and there, so be it. It was what had to be done and Tony was exhausted, burned, and things had drawn up a blank. Even fighting a one-armed Thanos that wasn’t even wearing a fucking gauntlet, it was still this hard.

 

It shouldn’t have been this hard. It was relatively ridiculous in every sense of the word.

 

His body braced, but the blow never came. Instead of a sharp blade to his throat, he was sent sprawling, along with Maw, into the rubble covered floor. Dust flew into the air, and Tony rolled over immediately, taking in the scene before him. The blade had been ripped away in a cocoon of red, Wanda appearing in the giant doorway. And on the ground, having tackled Maw and freed Tony…Was Peter.

 

Peter, his son, barefoot wearing only scrubs was sitting on top of Maw’s form. And Tony didn’t know if it was a concussion for not, but it felt like a haze as he watched his kid repeatedly slam his fist into Maw’s face, over and over until his knuckles were bleeding and he had never seen Peter look so out of himself before. Out of touch with the world around him and maybe the fact that Maw had controlled him, had entered his mind was to blame but Peter continued to plant blow after blow on Maw’s face and Tony was having trouble wrapping his mind around the whole thing.

 

He couldn’t think.

 

He was outside of himself.

 

His son was crying when he stopped punching. Chest spasming and he fell to the side off the alien before looking at Tony with wide, confused eyes. Maybe shocked with himself for doing such a thing. Loki approached, not slow strides, hurried, but the way Tony’s concussed mind was making sense of it, the entire world was going in colors and slow motion. Peter crawled towards him through the rubble and his body slammed into Tony’s.

 

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, placing a hand on the back of his head as Loki broke Maw’s neck. Peter’s knuckles were caked in blood and skin and the boy was saying something that Tony couldn’t hear because a woman approached, a woman he did not recognize and she lifted the discarded blade that had been ripped from Tony’s suit from the ground. The world was silent, and Peter turned just slightly in his arms to look at the woman with green skin. She was tall, and her hair was long. She held the blade like she had held a million between her fingers just as Thor was thrown into Steve’s body.

 

There is this moment where everything ends, in a rather sudden way.

 

Every story has it, Tony guessed. Real life doesn’t always have a big build up. Sometimes the ending comes in the form of a concussed haze, something that is hard to connect. But the woman swung the blade, and Thanos’ head detached from his shoulders. That was the sudden ending…An ending with blood and a quickness that Tony had desired from the very beginning and a part of Tony suddenly knew who the unknown woman was, by the way she stood over the corpse in a victory, but her shoulders sagged as if it had caused pain.

 

Peter’s body had tensed at the sight of the head rolling and Tony grabbed his face and made him turn away.

 

The ringing in Tony’s ears faded enough to hear the woman breathe, “You are my curse no longer.”

 

_Me too lady._ Tony thought dryly, bitterly, staring at the severed head on the ground, its eyes rolled back and mouth open. No last words. No swear to return for revenge. Just death. And even if Tony hadn’t given the killing blow, it had been his weapon.

 

Peter whispered, still not looking, “Is he dead?”

 

Tony pressed the side of his face to the mop of curls on Peter’s head, “Yeah, buddy. He’s dead.”

 

His eyes looked at Loki who still stood above them. Tony’s arms were tight around his son as he stared at the god and he was too tired to berate him for allowing his kid to be there. They were all enveloped in a quietness, everyone in the room who had been abused by Thanos just breathing and breathing, trying to find this new existence and take it before it was lost.  Suddenly the promise of demise had drifted into something else, and Tony saw Rhodey, he saw Steve, and he saw Thor, and Nat…All of those people… _Alive_.

 

Maybe to live would be an awfully big adventure.


	15. Epilogue: Bridge to Terabithia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all find solace in Peter's goodbyes like I did. GAHHH I can't believe this story is finished. I wanted a soft ending, just something that feels like we're floating away from the story. Knowing the trauma is there, but also knowing the potential for recovery is there too. I am so happy I got to share this story with you all, it has been my baby for the past few weeks now and it's just so wonderful to see it breathing and put together. I love you all and thank you for sticking with me. ❤ I'm not completely finished with this universe yet. In the future I'd like to write some oneshots for 'Caesar's Comet'. But I'll be putting focus on the new multichapter story 'Reviving Peter Parker'. If you guys want updates and such, I have a tumblr: https://yellowdistress.tumblr.com/

  1. **Rulers of Terabithia**



_…_

_Sometimes it seemed to him that his life was delicate as a dandelion. One little puff from any direction, and it was blown to bits._

Peter was trying to keep the puffs at bay.

 

The thing was, after something like the Infinity War…Something to that magnitude…A lot of people felt that way. All held onto each other, trying to tie their lives back together after being turned to dust with the snap of two fingers. And then it undoes itself. People think they’re getting better and the monsters come back for round two. But then round two never truly fulfills itself and Peter felt the ‘normal’ trying to come back in. Trying to absorb his little mangled heart as he glued it together each and every morning.

 

It was hard.

 

Recovering was.

 

Some nights, Peter woke screaming. Loud and long and enough that someone would usually come to him, always his father. But some nights he woke silent, scared stiff looking at the ceiling and those were the hard nights because those were the nights that no one came for him. Because no one could hear him. And he had hoped, with the destruction of the stones, it would be different. But the destruction never came, they were simply split up, hidden safely, because it became the only way to pacify Strange and Wong and they were forced to adhere to that.

 

It was the way it had to be. Not everything was so cut and dry.

 

But those nights, gripping his bedding, too frightened to even cry. Those were the nights where everything felt like a dandelion. Where he would go away from his body and remember what it felt like to have his fist connect with Maw’s face over and over again. Sure, Sam’s group sessions helped and Peter made use of them, more so than his father did. It was better that way, than aching and building up. Peter wasn’t good at that, but he also knew when they finally did return home, his dad was going to send him to a private therapist.

 

That was okay too. Sometimes that didn’t feel true, but Peter made it.

 

And some days were great. They were actually normal, and mundane, back to the way it was Before Thanos had come to earth and fucked things up. Before their very existence had become so fragile. Peter figured if even Gamora could smile after decapitating her abuser and Wanda could laugh after losing Vision, Peter could adjust to this new sense of life. Because that was what it was. This was new. They would never be the same again. None of them could be no matter how badly they tried. Because in the dead of night, like that night, when Peter was holding on for dear life…He wanted to be normal and could not.

 

So he slunk out of bed, slowly and with care before leaving his dark bedroom behind. His father’s and Pepper’s room wasn’t far from his at all, and Peter sat down in front of their door, before lying down on his side and curling into himself slightly. He listened closely, to their heartbeats, and he hadn’t slept outside of his dad’s door since he was small, maybe since after New York. When he was much too prideful to ask someone to stay with him.

 

Sometimes, Peter felt like he was floating away, maybe in a mirror and also…maybe not. Just inside himself, and he grabbed at his insides, trying to stop them from abandoning him, but it was hard and he dozed off there, on the floor, for several hours. He didn’t know how many, but he was delirious when his father’s hands were on him, pushing his hair off his forehead.

 

“C’mon, buddy, you need to get in your bed…Can’t sleep out here, Thor might accidentally stomp on you in the morning.”

 

That would be embarrassing, to be found sleeping there by someone other than his dad. Peter leaned into the touch, he sat up, and his father helped him to stand to his feet. A part of him was embarrassed, causing his face to burn with shame while the other part was too tired to care. But he climbed under his sheets, his father pulling them up to his neck and Peter felt sort of odd, because he was sixteen, being tucked into bed was not the norm.

 

His father sat on the corner of the mattress.

 

“What was it this time?”

 

Peter swallowed.

 

“I wasn’t myself.”

 

…

  1. **The Giant Killers**



…

 

“Alright, Baby-Peter, I’m gonna need you to watch that list of movies I left you and if you think they’re anything less than fantastic you and I are going to have a problem.”

 

The day the Guardians left, Peter felt a lump in his throat. The entire day he carried that lump around with him, waiting for midday when the sky would be clear and their ship would take off from the open field outside of the palace. Peter knew this was all a part of normalcy. Going back to it, and the Guardians were not a part of their normal. Not that they were exiled, but they didn’t want to stay, and a part of Peter felt a little betrayed by that. He knew it was nothing against them personally, but still…He was attached.

 

Most of them had gone to see them off, if not for the attachment but just to watch the ship take off. But Peter’s shoulders shook with anticipation at having to say goodbye. Everything within him didn’t want to. He didn’t want them to go, but he didn’t know what he had expected. As if he had thought they would live on Earth forever, become Avengers or something. It was a child’s sentiment, but a sentiment nonetheless and it was holding him hostage.

 

Quill patted Peter on the shoulder, but to his surprise the man suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around Peter’s shoulders and squeezed. When he pulled away, his arm was held and Quill spoke softer than Peter had ever heard him, “Thank you…For everything.”

 

He could see in the man’s eyes, see the gratefulness. Because Gamora was there. Gamora was alive, and Peter had brought her from the stone and Peter knew Quill was forever grateful. But Peter didn’t feel like he needed to be thanked because Gamora was his friend. And even though them locking lips every day for the past several weeks was as cringey as watching Pepper and his dad kiss, well…It was still nice to see them. To see them with each other and to have each other and Peter would never want Quill alone.

 

When Quill moved aside, Gamora stepped towards him. Her hug was softer, and Peter returned it much more fiercely, hands gripping her jacket under his fingers. He wanted her to leave least of all. Her and her kindness and her wise eyes. She was like Pepper, like a mother, and Peter had lost one mother in his life and now it felt sort of like losing another. And he felt it was going to be so lonely and different without her around, even if she had only been there in their weeks of gathering their souls from the depths of PTSD.

 

_You never know ahead of time what something's really going to be like._

But Peter knew. He knew it was going to be hard.

 

She pulled back from the hug and Peter finally felt the lump in his throat bloom into tears in his eyes. She cupped his face gently and gave a smile, but it was sad, he could see, she was sorry to be going away. A good friend, that was what she was and had been, but she had her own friends to go live her life with, just as Peter had his.

 

“I’m with you,” She whispered.

 

Peter shook his head, “It’s not the same though.”

 

Gamora sort of agreed, “Maybe. But it’s enough, isn’t it?”

 

And it was. It was enough. She got close to his ear before saying, “You are the bravest person I have ever known…But don’t tell my Peter.”

 

Departing was like sailing away, except in the sky. Peter had once dreamed of space.

 

…

  1. **The Coming of Prince Terrien**



…

 

It seemed slowly, but surely, everyone eventually left the palace in Wakanda.

 

And then, on the fourth week after Thanos’ fall…It was Peter’s turn.

 

He had thought about the day they would go home to their penthouse in New York. He had considered it quite greatly because he wondered if returning to Spider-Man was an option or not. Peter was in no particular rush, he supposed that had quite literally been beaten out of him. But he also wondered what would become of Loki and the others. Where they would go, without their home. They would be remaining in Wakanda longer, possibly returning to the Compound in the near future. And still, to Peter leaving them felt like going away forever.

 

The goodbye was going to be beforehand, to Loki of course, because of all the people they were leaving behind, this one felt possibly the most difficult. Maybe worse than Gamora, but he didn’t know if that was remnants from sharing a body or not. The thing was, the entire ordeal had been Peter’s fault, even if the sessions with Sam told him otherwise and any therapist would as well, Peter knew it was a lie and he would forever carry that burden. It was just growing used to it that needed to happen. And Peter felt so very sorry for everything he had put Loki through.

 

He had even rehearsed his goodbye. His thank you. All of it, but then the moment he was standing in the same room as the god, shoulders drawn up and face filled with a sense of bravery…Walking up behind Loki who was sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee…Peter’s face instantly fell into that of uncertainty and fear and Peter swallowed, thickly, like there was something heavy behind his throat and he could not breathe through it.

 

Loki either sensed his presence or his distress, either way her turned around on the stool to look at him.

 

Peter had expected to need to explain himself and his awkward stance. His weird behavior or something. He could practically hear the god questioning “what are you doing, spider?” as he normally did when Peter was being indecisive in his actions or his words. But no explaining was needed, because the god offered it up himself, questioning in an opposite sort of way, “Come to say goodbye?”

 

He didn’t know if it had been them living in the same body for so long that had told Loki the answer or if it was just intuition. But the correctness of the statement was sort of startling and Peter felt his heart clenching a bit in anticipation because, well, there was no going back then on the mission of the day and Peter approached a bit before stopping, still a few feet away. Loki was at eye level on the tall stool, and he raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well…yeah,” Peter answered, “I…How’d you know?”

 

Loki sighed, “You have that lost puppy look on your face.”

 

Peter wanted to deny that, but he couldn’t be sure. In fact, he hadn’t been sure of much the past few weeks, in this adjustment period of his life. He wondered if the rest of the world felt the same way, having reformed, having come together, molecule by molecule. Half the universe had reformed after all, in a sudden breath. Peter had, had Loki’s soul ripped out of him. Gamora had decapitated Thanos and his father had lived through it all. Peter had been mind controlled, invaded, and so would that ever go away?

 

His mind teetered off that way until he returned to the there, to that place. Peter let out a puff of air and he asked, “Will you guys come to the Compound?”

 

“We will see,” Loki reassured, “All in due time.”

 

Peter rambled a bit, voice shaking, “B-Because, you can, if you want. And I can probably visit. I mean my dad will want to be with me of course, because he’s still kind of weird about us being friends. Which I kind of get, but you’re awesome, Mister Loki and – “

 

“Is there a goodbye in there somewhere?” Loki interrupted.

 

There was, intertangled with the goodbye to Gamora and all the others. It wasn’t the same, Loki would still be on earth, there was no home for Loki and Thor to return to after all. But it still felt heavy, in a cinderblock around ankles sort of way. He wondered if simplicity ever mattered, when he rushed forward, and wrapped his arms around Loki. He could tell the god was startled by the sudden action, and Peter squeezed tightly, hoping he wouldn’t push him away. After all, it was the first hug they had shared, Peter believed, and Loki was very stiff in the embrace, like a plank.

 

Peter’s eyes were watering, so he shut them and croaked, “You’re one of my best friends.”

 

Maybe Loki didn’t reciprocate that, but Peter didn’t really care. Loki had helped him get out of the Soul Stone. Hadn’t tried to kill him, no matter how irritating he had become and what his grief had done to the illusion. The statement was better than a goodbye, because Loki needed to know that his visits were required. Sharing a body for so long meant such things. He felt like crying, and he was a little, but not enough to be noticed. At least he hoped.

 

“That isn’t much of a goodbye,” Loki answered.

 

A pause.

 

“But…you have been a friend to me as well, Spider.”

 

Peter could have laughed, because the sincerity and gentleness in his tone was enough to outweigh how awkward he was in the hug.

 

_Handle with care—everything—even the predators._

_…_

  1. **Building the Bridge**



…

Planes didn’t scare Peter anymore.

 

In fact, there was something that felt safe about being above the clouds. Like nothing could reach so high, nothing could grab hold of him, his father, or Pepper. They were unreachable, at the top of the world, the highest point and Peter peered silently down, because the ocean was black with the cover of night, and the flight was already four hours in, but there was still several more to go. He would probably need to sleep soon, the same way Pepper was doing in one of the reclined chairs of the private plane, to his left, several feet away.

 

His heart soared with the thought of going home. Of seeing Ned and his other friends. Of finding out how they were and sure, things would be hard. But they could talk. Get through things. He hadn’t even been in contact with Ned because well…he wasn’t even sure what the hell had happened to his cellphone after getting off that bus. It felt like a million years ago, but it wasn’t. His mouth was dry with the thought, even if it wasn’t a particularly frightening one.

 

The plane was dark, but he saw his father enter the seating area, carrying a blanket. He held it out in offering and Peter took it, the wool feeling off on his skin, but comforting nonetheless as the man took the seat direction next to him. Peter felt somewhat guilty he wasn’t going to go sleep beside Pepper but he also wasn’t going to argue, pulling his legs to his chest under the blanket and turning to face the man, back propped against the wall with the window and toes scrunching against the armrest that separated them.

 

“Is the wedding still in August?”

 

His dad laughed, sounding kind of surprised by the question as he looked over at Peter. His shoulders shrugged before he answered, “Depends on if we can catch up on everything.”

 

“I think we should try,” Peter provided, “I’m ready…I’m ready for us all to be a family.”

 

The man tilted his head, “Aren’t we already?”

 

“Well, yeah…” Peter paused, “But, you know, like the real deal.”

 

Peter didn’t say he was afraid. Peter didn’t say that he thought about how he had almost died without getting to see them get married. He didn’t describe the kind of anguish that put inside of his bones, because it was just too heavy, and it wasn’t patient enough. Patience with himself had to grow, and he rested his head against the seat. So he kept that to himself, promising to maybe bring it to the surface with whoever was hired to help him work through the trauma. It would never really go away, things like that never did. But he had his dad…He had Pepper.

 

He had friends.

 

Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, Peter questioned softly, “Dad?”

 

The man said nothing, but looked at him expectantly and Peter took it as the green light to continue, “Things just get better from here, right?”

 

His father’s eyes never had optimism in them anymore, especially not since Thanos. They might have been improving but they were far form cured. Peter had a feeling it would be a long time before they were ever themselves again, like after New York. That took so long to recover from…things were so hard after, and though Peter wasn’t looking forward to it, he knew it was something they would have to get past. And someday they would.

 

“Yeah…Yeah buddy, it only gets better from here. I’ll make sure of that. I’ve always got you.”

 

His father reached out, gently carding a hand through his curls briefly, before pulling away.

 

“Get some sleep,” It was one of the non-negotiables, “Dream of something good.”

 

Peter wondered how, but he shut his eyes anyway, lulled to sleep by his father’s presence beside him, dunking him deep beneath the waves of a calmness that was rare, but worshipped. He thought of good things to dream about.

 

_“Just close your eyes and keep your mind wide open.”_


End file.
